Vindicated
by twenty3
Summary: The secret was so dangerous, even he wasn't supposed to know about it. Nick knows more than he wants to, but not what to do or who to trust. He'll have to ultimately make a decision on who he really is, wether it's who he wants to be or not.
1. Breaking News

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or anything to do with it.

Warning: This story contains adult languages, themes, and violence.

This first chapter starts the story's plot right away with a lot of information right off the bat. The following chapters will have twists, turns and all the angst imaginable.

* * *

Nick had absolutely no way of knowing that something like this was capable of actually happening to him. Sure he'd been through his fair share of awful moments and hellish days, but this really took the gold medal. He literally felt his heart stop beating for a few seconds and his lungs screamed for air that he was forgetting to give them. Everything around him seemed to start spinning extremely fast, and he didn't know how to stop it. All he could do was pray that it was a mistake and that this wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Hed spent the last thirty years of his life telling himself it wasn't true and that it couldn't happen, but now it seemed like it was. And he knew that if in fact it was true, that it was going to be worse than just the case he was working. It would turn into something much bigger, something that had been waiting for thirty years to come out.

Nick stared at Wendy for several more moments before finally speaking. "What? Are you sure?" he managed to say.

Wendy nodded slowly. "Yeah, I ran it three times. The blood at the scene near the curb wasn't from the vic. It's male, and has seven markers in common with you. Your dad is in the system because he's a judge, and it doesn't match him. It's your brother's blood Nick."

"I gotta go find Grissom," Nick said as he turned and left Wendy's lab quickly.

Nick finally found Grissom in his office with Brass, which would save him the trouble of explaining this whole thing twice. He shut the door behind him, not caring at all that he was interrupting a conversation between the two men that seemed to be about something other than business. Nick stood at the closed door, unsure of what to do or say. He didn't know how to explain this, especially since he didn't know everything for sure himself.

"What's wrong Nicky?" Grissom asked, seeing the horrified look on Nick's pale face.

Nick walked over to Grissom desk slowly and sat in the chair next to Brass. "We have a problem," he said. "Well, I have a problem."

"What is it?" Brass asked.

Nick took a deep breath. "I found some blood at my crime scene, and it didn't match the vic's. But seven markers matched mine. It's my brother's blood."

Grissom nodded slowly, staying very professional. "Alright. You'll have to be pulled from the case, and we need to find Jason," he said. They had all met Nick's older brother several times and had become friendly with him. Neither Grissom nor Brass believed he would have committed the murder, but they had to follow procedure anyway.

Nick shook his head quickly. "But he didn't do it," he said.

"Does he have an allibi?" Brass asked. "

Nick nodded. "Yeah. He's not my real brother."

Brass and Grissom exchanged shocked glances. "He's adopted?" the supervisor asked.

Nick shook his head slowly. "No, I am. That's why you can't go question Jason."

"I don't follow," Grissom said.

"He doesn't know," Nick said with a sigh. "No one in my family knows I'm adopted except my parents, obviously. I'm not even supposed to know."

Grissom frowned in utter confusion. "Nicky, what the hell is going on?"

"I'm not supposed to know I'm adopted. My parents never told me because they weren't supposed to. I was never supposed to know."

"Then how do you?" Brass asked.

"Because I remember. I wasn't suuposed to because of the accident, but I do."

Grissom took his glassses off and rubbed his eyes. "You're not making any sense. Start from the beginning, and explain this with every detail, okay?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah, sorry." He took another deep breath. "I was adopted by who you guys know as my parents when I was six. I was taken away from my real parents because there was some kind of fight at my house. I don't remember all of it except there was gunshots, and a ceiling fan somehow fell on my head. I don't remember much about the fight or whatever, but I remember living with my real parents. After I got out of the hospital, I went and lived with the Stokes' in Texas. The doctor said I wouldn't remember anything, but I did. I just pretended I didn't. I don't know how none of my sisters or Jason don't know I'm adopted because they were old enough to remember a new six-year-old, but I'm almost positive none of them do."

"Okay," Grissom said. "Why can't you or your siblings know you're adopted?"

"Because my real father is James Sparazza," Nick answered.

Grissom and Brass stared at each other before looking back at Nick. "You mean the James Sparazza? Jimym Sparazza? The mob boss that the FBI's been after for fourty years?"

Nick nodded weakly. "Yeah."

Brass laughed slightly. "You're kidding me, right?"

"I wish I was."

Grissom put his glasses on his desk. "You're telling me that the most dangerous man in America is your father?"

Nick nodded again. "Yeah."

"How can that be? He's committed almost every crime in the book and paid off or killed half the people he's ever met. The other half works for him. He's a multi-millionaire and a celebrity, even though everyone knows he's the biggest crook in history. How does he have time to have a family?"

"I don't know," Nick said with a shrug. "I don't remember much of what he did when I was younger. My mom was barely ever home and I didn't know I had a real brother until Wendy told me. They took me away to try and save me I guess. I'm not supposed to know. No one is, for their own protection."

"You've known this for thirty years and never brought it up?" Brass asked.

"I never had a good reason to. I didn't want you guys to know either unless you had to. I only told you now because they're here, in Vegas."

Grissom heard fear in Nick's voice. "Do you think Sparazza's going to try and get in touch with you?"

Nick shrugged. "I don't know. He used to go to some of my games when I was younger and in high school and stuff. But I guess my parents realized and told the police because he stopped. I saw him a few times in other places though, but he never talked to me. The only person who did was his mentor, Jack. He checked in with me all the time to make sure I was okay and that my dad stayed away from me."

"What about your brother?" Brass asked. "Do you know anything about him?"

Nick shook his head. "I don't remember him at all, but I bet he works for my dad."

"What do you think this means?" Brass asked Nick.

"I have no idea," Nick said honestly. "Maybe it's just them doing their illegal business as usual. Maybe they're trying to send a message to me or something. I don't know what to do or what they're trying to do."

"Alright, well leave that to us," Grissom said, glancing quickly at Brass. "As of now, you're off that case due to conflict of interest and the fact that we have no idea what could happen."

"Maybe it's nothing," Nick said, trying to make light of the situation. "I'm probably just over reacting."

"That's better than us not being ready for something to happen," Brass said. "All precautions will be taken, which includes this staying between the three of us, understood?"

Nick nodded silently.

"Does anyone else know about this?"

Nick shook his head. "No, I came right to you guys after Wendy told me."

"I meant that you're adopted. Other than your parents, have you ever told anyone else? Warrick?"

Nick shook his head again. "No, I never did."

"Okay," Brass said. "Good. Keep it that way for now, okay? Let's make this as simple, easy and quiet as we can."

No one in that room knew that easy, simple and quiet came nowhere near to describing what they were up against. It was already out of their hands, and there was very little they would be able to do. Nick was virtually on his own, and he didn't even know it yet. He had a bad feeling about it, but told himself he was just over reacting and that after thirty years, nothing was going to happen now. It was crazy to think that something would. But crazy wouldn't even begin to cover it.

* * *

Jack Miller wasn't proud of most of the things he had done in his life, but he was proud of the fact that he had kept Nick safe from his father for as long as he had. Jack had gotten out of "the business" years ago, but was still connected through Jimmy Sparazza. He felt as though Nick was a son to him, and he didn't want him getting mixed up with his father and brother's illegal means of life. That's why he had shown up at the Sparazza's that night and started the fight and got Nick taken away to a safer place. 

Jimmy had had no choice in forgiving Jack. Even though Jimmy Sparazza was the most dangerous man in America, he was still intimidated and respectful of Jack Miller, who taught him everything he knew. He had felt betrayed at first, but deep down knew Jack was trying to protect Nick, and he appreciated that even though Jack was trying to protect his son from his own father. Jack was the only person close enough to Sparazza that could still call him James instead of Jimmy and get away with it as if nothing happened.

"It's done dad," Mike Sparazza reported to his father upon returning to the back room at one of the numerous bars his father owned across the country.

"You left no other trace, just your blood that could have been there because of anything, right?"

Mike nodded. "Right. It's all set. I'm not in the system, but Nick is. They'll bring Jason in and then it'll all come out."

Jack spoke before Jimmy could. "James, you should just leave this kid alone."

"This is my kid," Jimmy said. "I go thirty years without talking to him. You're the only one who has, and he doesn't know who you really are. We're doing the right thing Jack."

Jack fell silent and just say there, listening to Mike and Jimmy working out the rest of their plans. Jimmy said he just wanted to talk to his youngest son again, and he couldn't blame him there. But he knew that there was more to it than that and wished he could warn Nick, but he had a feeling he already knew. Jack knew that Nick knows more than Jimmy thinks he does, and maybe that'll come in handy. Or maybe it'll make matters even worse.

Jack knew that Nick didn't know Mike even existed, and when he found out he had a real brother, he wasn't sure how Nick would react. He wanted to talk to Nick in person and explain to him what Jimmy was trying to do, but he wasn't exactly sure himself. He didn't know whether more was going to come from this and what Jimmy wanted Nick for, other than to just talk to him. If there were other intentions, Jack was sure that they weren't good ones and hoped Nick wasn't in any danger.

Jack knew better than anyone that James Sparazza was a complicated guy. He never gave anything away and there was never any way of telling what he was truly thinking or planning to do, no matter what the situation was. Contrary to popular belief due to his choice in career, James wasn't an evil guy. He was just doing what he knew best and making a lot of money doing it, even if it was illegal. James Sparazza was a drug dealer, a thief, a murderer, an extortionist and con-man. But he was also a father, and maybe that was starting to overcome the criminal side of him.

Or maybe not. Only time would tell.


	2. Singled Out

Jack Miller couldn't help but smile when he saw Nick walk into the diner, spotting the older man immediatly. He smiled as well as he walked over to the booth Jack had taken in the back up against the large window with a great view of the Bellagio Fountain. Jack stood up as Nick approached and hugged the other man that he hadn't seen in almost a year, but had talked to frequently, about sports, work or anything else in general. They sat down across from one another and Jack motioned to the waitress to bring Nick over a coffee. Then he turned back and faced Nick, still smiling, but it was starting to fade slowly. 

"How are ya Nicky?" Jack asked.

"I'm fine, how are you?"

Jack shrugged. "Can't complain. I've been all over the damn country though. I wish I could be like you and stay in one nice, warm place forever. You got a girl yet?"

Nick shook his head, still smiling. "No."

Jack nodded in approval. "Smart man. No one's good enough for you."

The waitress brought Nick's coffee over and he took a few sips of it as Jack did the same with his. They were silent for a few moments, looking out the window and glancing at the few others in the diner. Nick knew why jaxk had called him and asked to see him, other than the fact that he was in Vegas and they met up everytime he was. Nick had been expecting a call after his shift last night, and he was hoping that Jack would have some good news for him and maybe a few answers.

"You know why I called you," Jack said, reading Nick's mind.

Nick nodded slightly. "Yeah, I got the results from the blood last night. I never knew I had a real brother."

Jack leaned back against the cushioned booth seat. He ran his hand over his stubbly beard that was spotted with gray and matched his hair. It seemed that it got grayer more and more everytime Nick saw him. He looked at Nick for a long time with his dark eyes, analyzing the other man for quite some time before he finally spoke.

"I never told you because I know you too well," Jack said. "I know you would have tried to find him and talk to him or whatever. I know you would have, so I never told you about him."

"That's fair enough," Nick agreed. "So how about you tell me about him now?"

Jack sighed. "His name's Mike. He's a good kid, but he's been corrupted."

"By my father."

Jack held up his index finger. "Not entirely. He never hung around with a great crowd and made a lot of stupid decisions. He never applied himself to anything other than the jobs your dad gave him. But hell, was he good at them. He can't tell ya the capital of Michigan, but he can sell drugs there or set up a betting agency if he wanted to. He's learned too much from your old man."

Nick noted eveything Jack had told him. "Did he kill that guy?" he asked.

"I don't know," Jack answered honestly. "I can't see him doing that kind of dirty work, but he rolls with the crowd that usually does. I don't know if that guy even had anything to do with your dad in the first place."

"So what does all of this have to do with me? Why, after thirty years, does my dad have some guy killed and leave Mike's blood there so I'll know I have a brother?"

Jack sat upright. "That's not his plan. He doesn't know you already know. He doesn't know you know he's your real dad. He thinks you're clueless to everything and wanted it to be this big revelation when they brought Jason in."

"I told Grissom and Brass everything," Nick said. "I didn't want Jason to be brought in because he doesn't know I'm adopted. I don't want him to know."

"Okay," Jack said, nodding slightly. "That's fine. Just pretend they did. You already know, who cares how you found out."

Nick was silent for a few moments before he asked, "What does he want with me?"

"He just wants to talk to you," Jack said.

Nick shook his head. "You don't believe that. If he just wanted to talk to me, he could have just talked to me instead of putting on this whole big production."

Jack's smile returned. "I love how bright you are Nicky," he said. "That's what makes you such a great CSI."

"That, and because you taught me all the criminals tricks."

"I taught you those with good intentions. I'm not proud of the things I've done, but God himself would not have been able to keep me from getting you away from all of that. Mikey was doomed from the start, but I tried. But I wouldn't let you become that."

"I'm just scared that I am that."

Jack frowned. "Scared that you're what?"

"That I might not be who I'm supposed to be."

Jack leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table and looked Nick dead in the eye. "Listen to me very closely. You are who you're supposed to be. You're not what your father is, or what your brother is, or what I was. You're better than that. You're who you're supposed to be, and nothing can change that. Don't let anything change that Nicky."

"My dad's gonne try to change that, isn't he?" Nick asked.

"I don't know kid," Jack said. "I don't know what he wants or how he plans on getting it. But don't worry about him, you're gonna be fine. Don't let him get to you."

"The only thing I can remember about him is that he wasn't home a lot and when he was, him and my mom would yell at each other the whole time. I remember all of my friends always saying how their parents hated my dad and thought I was a bad kid because of it."

"You're not your dad," Jack said firmly. "You never will be, even if he wants you to be."

"I can't see him taking no for an answer though," Nick said, his voice giving away his fear.

Jack kept his eyes locked with Nick's as he said, "Your dad has done a lot of bad things in his life. He's a criminal, no doubt about it, and I didn't do anything to stop it. I know he loves you, you're his son. I know you don't know what to do or think about all of this, but if for whatever reason something happens, I promise you I am not going to let anything bad happen to you. I kept you from all of this for thirty years. If there's one thing I do right in my life, you're gonna be it kid."

* * *

Fourteen hours later, Nick sat in the locker room, trying his best not to fall asleep on the spot. He hadn't gotten any sleep after his breakfast with Jack, and although Jack had eased some of Nick's nerves, not all of them could be. He still had no idea what was going to happen and what he was going to do. As much as he wanted to hate his dad for everything he knows he's done, he just couldn't. He was too afraid of him to hate him. From what he could remember combined with what he knew, his dad wasn't the nicest guy. But at the same time, Jack had always spoken somewhat highly of him when they spoke about him, and Nick knew he could trust Jack if not anyone else.

The hardest part of all of this was keeping it to himself. Nick had wanted to tell Warrick about his secret ever since the two had become close friends, but he didn't want to involve Warrick and potentially risk getting him hurt or anything. Nick didn't know what his knowledge of his real father was going to bring him, but whatever it was, he wanted to keep his friends out of it for as long as he could. Grissom and Brass had needed to know, and Nick had felt relief after finally telling someone. But he still wished that he could let his best friend know that he wasn't exactly who he thought he was.

Nick hated living a lie, even if it was better than living the truth. He wished that he could just be who he really was, but that was far too dangerous and too many people had worked too hard to change who he was for his own good. Grissom and Brass had been the first people Nick had ever told his secret to. Jack had been the only other person he could talk to about it. Nick really just wanted to be normal and not have to lie about who he was to his best friends.

Nick's thoughts were interrupted by Brass coming into the locker room. "We have Mike Sparazza in interrogation," the police captain reported. "Grissom wants you to watch with him. Not the best way to meet your brother, but we wanna give you something."

Nick followed Brass to where they had his brother and went in the second door where Grissom was waiting for him in front of the glass window looking into the interrogation room. Nick stood next to his supervisor and took a deep breath before he looked through the glass at the man sitting at the table across from Brass.

Miek Sparazza was roughly an inch taller than Nick with tanner skin and jet black hair. His hair was shorter than Nick's and cut perfectly, matching his perfectly trimmed sideburns. He was wearing a very expensive looking suit with a gold Rolex on his left wrist. His eyes were dark brown, the same as Nick's. His facial features' resemblance to Nick's was uncanny. One look at these two and anyone could tell that they were brothers.

"Okay Mr. Sparazza-" Brass started, but was cut-off politely.

"Please, call me Mike. Mr. Sparazza makes me feel old," Mike said with a small laugh.

Brass faked a smile. "Okay, Mike, can you explain to me why your blood was found at a murder scene?"

Mike frowned. "No, I can't. Where was it found?" Brass slid a picture across to Mike. He looked at it for a moment before smiling. "Oh yeah. I was chasing my girlfriend's kid. I slipped on some gravel and cut my leg the other day."

Brass looked at him skeptically. "Oh, really?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah." He put his left leg up on the table and pulled up his dark blue pant leg to reveal a scrape. "See?"

"Alright, thanks," Brass said. "Have you ever seen this guy before?"

Mike looked at the picture of the vic and shook his head. "No sir, I haven't."

Brass nodded. "And where were you last night at around eleven?"

"I was at dinner with my girlfriend. We gambled a bit then caught a late bite. I have the receipt right here." Mike pulled a folde dup receipt from his wallet and slid it across to Brass, who looked at it quickly and verified that it indeed provided an allibi.

"Okay Mike, thank you for your cooperation. You're free to go."

"No problem officer," Mike said pleasantly as he stood and left.

"He's lying," Nick said as the door shut behind Mike.

Grissom looked at Nick. "Can you prove it?" Nick shook his head. "Well, we have nothing else to tie him to the murder, and he has an allibi."

"I know," Nick said. "That's the worst part."

Nick left the observation room and headed back to the locker room to grab his vest before going to assignments. He entered the locker room and went over to his locker, but didn't get a chance to open it before he heard the door close and the lock snap in place. He quickly looked over and saw Mike turning back away from the door and facing him, a smile on his face.

"Nice to meet you Nick," he said, walking over with his hand extended.

Nick shook it reluctantly. "Nice to meet you too..." he said, playing dumb.

"Come on, I know you were behind that glass. I know you know who I am."

"Wasn't that the whole point of this?"

Mike was still smiling. "No. You'll find out the whole point of this soon enough, don't worry."


	3. Like It Or Not

After shift, Nick would usually go home and get some sleep or go out with Warrick, Greg, Catherine and maybe even Grissom and Brass for drinks or to get something to eat. He had been let out early by his supervisor because "it was a slow night", but Nick knew the real reason. So instead of going home at one in the morning and getting some much needed rest, Nick was sitting in a booth at a new, very popular bar across from his brother, Mike. 

It didn't take a genius to figure out that the Sparazza's owned this bar. When Nick had walked in, the bouncer had immediatly lead him over to the private booth Mike was waiting for him in. The place was packed and very loud out in the main part, but quiter and calmer where Mike was sitting. Mike smiled as Nick sat down across from him and slid a full beer bottle over to him. Nick faked a smile and just sat there, waiting for Mike to say something, which he finally did.

"I'm glad you decided to come," Mike said genuinely. "It's not every day I get to meet my little brother."

"It's not every day I get to watch my older brother in an interrogation room either," Nick said, unable to stop himself to think before he spoke.

But Mike just laughed. "Jack said you were a sarcastic guy. I guess it runs in the family."

Nick shrugged. "Yeah, well I wouldn't really know."

"Hey, that's not my fault," Mike said. He took a sip of his beer before continuing. "I would have loved to have been around when you were a kid, but things were kinda complicated then. And then you were gone and I wasn't supposed to even talk about you, let alone see you. Jack especially told me to stay away. He wanted to keep you safe."

"And he did," Nick replied, "for thirty years at least."

"And then it all came out," Mike said with a small smile.

Nick nodded. "Yeah," he said. "So why now?"

"You can only go so long without meeting your brother," Mike answered. "And dad misses you. We wanna get to know you, be a family again."

Nick shook his head. "That's bullshit."

Mike's smiled widened. "Jack said you were smart too. He's the only one that knows anything about you," he said, but his eyes were giving something away to Nick that told him he was lying.

"And the only thing I know about you is that you're a criminal and you killed a guy," Nick said.

Mike held up his hands. "Woah woah woah. You were watching, right? You saw the cut on my leg, and the reciept. I have an allibi. Add that together, and you get innocence."

Nick rolled his eyes. "You had that receipt ready before you even walked in the building. You knew exactly what you were gonna tell them before they even asked you any questions. You set them up to ask what you had answers to."

"I didn't kill that guy Nick," Mike said with what sounded like pure honesty. "Do me a favor. Stop being a cop, or a CSI, or whatever for just a little while. Come on, have a few drinks with your big brother. Relax, and let's get to know each other, brother to brother. No bullshit."

Nick smiled slightly. "No bullshit?"

Mike nodded. "No bullshit."

"Alright, sounds fair enough to me," Nick said before he finally took a sip of his beer.

Mike's smile widened. "Alright, good," he said cheerfully. "I guess we should start with the basics. Are you married?"

Nick shook his head. "No."

"Ever been married?"

"No. What about you?"

Mike sighed heavily. "Yeah, for about fifteen years. Then she got cancer and died a few years ago."

Nick wished he hadn't asked. "I'm sorry."

Mike nodded slightly as he pulled his wallet from his jacket and removed a picture. "Yeah. Asheley was my wife, and that's our daughter Lauryn."

Nick smiled as he looked at the picture. "They're both beautiful. How old is Lauryn?"

Nick handed Mike the picture and he put it back into his wallet. "She's eleven now. She lives with her great-aunt Michelle in Chicago though, because I'm always on business traveling and everything. I get to see her alot though."

"That's good. So do we have anymore siblings?"

Mike laughed lightly. "No, it's just me and you. Mom and dad split up after you left. They were on the rocks for a while, and tried to stay together when they had you, but it just went all downhill when you were taken away. And I know you remember what everyone thinks you don't. Dad doesn't know you know, but I'm not gonna tell him. Let him figure it out on his own."

Nick couldn't argue with that. "How come I don't remember you being around when I was younger?"

"I was," Mike answered, "but when you were really little. When you were two I dropped out of high school and got my own apartment so it'd be easier for me to do my work."

"You never went to college?"

"No, I never needed to. I never even graduated from high school, and I'm one of the most successful people in America."

"And you're also one of the most wanted people in America," Nick replied. "If you're good at this, you could have been good at anything."

Mike shook his head. "No, I'm not like you. I'm not smart or talented at anything other than what I do, and I'm really good at what I do. Even if I had went to college, I wouldn't have been at anything else. You're different though. You would be good at anything you wanted. You can literally do anything you want."

"Just because this is the only thing you've ever done doesn't mean it's the only thing you can do," Nick said.

"Same to you," Mike retorted. "You're a great CSI and all, but you could be anything. Dad wasn't forced to be what he is, Jack introduced him to it. I chose it too."

"And you want me to chose it?" Nick asked.

Mike shrugged. "It's a family business, and whether you like it or not, we're your family. We're the most powerful people in the country."

"But you're criminals," Nick said.

"I'm still your brother," Mike replied. "No matter what, I'm still your brother."

"A brother that I didn't even knew existed until yesterday, and I haven't seen or spoken to anyone else in our family for thirty years. Family or not, that's not normal."

Mike sighed as he leaned back against his seat. He folded his hands on the table and looked down at them. "Speaking of all this...I think there's something else you need to know."

"What?" Nick asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know, but needed to at the same time.

Mike looked up at Nick. "Mom passed away, about ten years ago now. I know you never really knew her because she wasn't around much, but I still thought you should know."

Nick didn't know what to say. "Oh," he said weakly, and just looked at Mike.

"I know you never got a chance to know her, but trust me Nick, she wasn't worth knowing. She didn't care about me or dad and blamed us for losing you. We hadn't talked to her in between the time you left and she passed," Mike said.

Nick still didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything at all. He looked down at the table and tried to think of something to say, but there was really nothing he could do. This whole situation was incredibly confusing and overwhelming for him. Nick had no idea what he was supposed to do. He knew, as did everyone else in the country, that the Sparazza's were criminals. Rich and powerful, but criminals nonetheless. But they were still his _family_. That thought plagued his mind. _They were still his family._

Mike spoke again after a few moments of silence. "I know it's hard for you to trust me because you just met me and I'm not a saint, but I would never do anything you hurt you. You're my little brother, the only one I have. I know I'm not an ideal brother, but I'm willing to at least try if you'll let me."

Nick looked up at Mike and smiled. "I don't see why I wouldn't."

Mike returned the smile. "Good to know."

* * *

Nick had been nervous when Grissom had called him into his office at the beginning of shift. With the way things had been going, he didn't know what to expect. Anything could happen now to turn his world completely over. Nick still didn't know what was going to happen, and was basically fearing for the worst. But the light-hearted atmosphere between Grissom and Brass in the office when Nick walked in relieved his worry. He sat down next to Brass and breathed a sigh of relief. 

"How ya doing Nicky?" Brass asked.

Nick shrugged. "Fine I guess."

"How about with all this craziness with the Sparazza's?" Grissom asked, starting to become serious.

Nick knew better than to lie, especially to these two. "I went out to a bar that they own last night with Mike, just to talk."

"What did he say?" Brass asked.

"That he knows it'd be hard for me to trust him but that he's not going to hurt me and him and my dad just want to talk to me and stuff because they're still my family, even if I wish they weren't."

Grissom frowned. "Do you with they weren't?"

Nick sighed. "I don't know. I guess they haven't exactly done anything bad to me directly. I know they're criminals and everything, but they never tried to hurt me or anything. I don't know what to think."

Grissom nodded slightly. "We kinda expected that, but we just want you to know that you shouldn't feel like you have to avoid them. Granted it won't look too good, but there's nothing we can do about that. Keep it quiet for as long as you can, but if it comes out it comes out. Mike's right, you are their family. Family's family."

Nick nodded. "I know. I just don't know what to do or what they want with me. Jack's the only one I know I can trust for sure."

"Then Jack's the only one you trust," Brass said. "We just want you to be careful Nick. They're dangerous people, and although I don't think they're trying to hurt you, still be careful."

Nick nodded again. "I know, I promise I will."

"It's not a big deal if you talk to them or whatever because they are, in fact, you're family, but this could turn into something different and dangerous, so we have to be ready for that and cautious that it might happen at all times. We don't want you getting hurt Nick," Grissom said, looking at his CSI.

"Maybe I can figure out what they want from me and just say no and maybe they'll just leave me alone," Nick suggested.

Brass glanced at Grissom before saying, "Yeah, maybe that'll work." He tried to say it genuinely, but Nick could tell he highly doubted such a thing would happen.

"Does anyone else know about this?" Grissom asked.

Nick shook his head. "No, I still haven't told anyone."

Grissom nodded his head once. "Good, let's try to keep it a secret for as long as we can, for everyone's own good until we know what they want or what they're planning to do, just to be safe. You never know what could happen."


	4. Late Night

Nick wished that he could think of a word to describe how he was feeling, but there wasn't one that even came close. That was probably because no one emotion was dominating the others right now, it was like one huge mix of all of them thrown into one. He was more nervous than scared, more confused than worried, and more anxious than all of the others. He was glad that both Jack and Mike were with him, but he knew that that wouldn't take the spotlight off of himself. Nothing would, no matter what he came up with in his mind or how much he wanted to be anything but the center of attention, he was going to be. This whole thing was about him, and there was nothing he could about it. 

Jack was sitting to his left and Mike was to his right. The chair across from Nick was yet to be occupied, but that would change soon. They were in a very nice restaurant, one that Nick would never even think of going to because he wasn't a fan of elegant meals that cost way too much for the little amount of food they gave you. But here he was, sitting there despite the fact that he didn't want to be, all because Jack and Mike had talked him into it and Grissom and Brass had urged him to as well. Nick had been staring at his glass of water when he saw the chair from across the table be pulled back before it was filled by the last person in their party. Nick looked up hesitantly, not especially wanting to but not being able to help it either.

James Sparazza was looking across the table at Nick, smiling slightly. "I'm sorry I'm late," he apologized to everyone, but kept his eyes on Nick. "I got caught up in some business that needed to be taken care of."

Jack shrugged slightly. "Not a problem at all. We weren't waiting long."

James' smile widened. "Good. Now the waiter told me it was very busy tonight, but I told him not to worry about it because I have something more important to do tonight other than eating," he said, still looking at Nick. "I have to catch up about the last thirty years of my youngest son's life."

Nick felt compelled to speak then before something sarcastic came to mind. "There's not much to know," he said.

James poured himself a glass of water. "Jack here seems to be very impressed with you from what he's told us about you, and Mikey said he had a very good time with you the other night. But I'm glad to see that you're so modest, something I'm sure you get from me."

Nick just stared at the man sitting across from him in almost disbelief. He couldn't believe that this was actually happening. He was sitting with James Sparazza, the biggest mob boss in the country. Actually, he was **the** mob boss. Everyone else worked for him. Everyone in the country knew he was a criminal and the most dangerous man that has been around in a long time. But Nick couldn't see that in him, and he didn't know why. He didn't see the criminal most other people would be afraid of if they saw him in public, let alone sat at the same table as him. Nick couldn't believe that he was actually sitting across from his real father, a man he hadn't spoken to in thirty years, but still his father.

James continued speaking when he realized no one else had anything else to add. "Now Nick, I know that there's a lot of things that have been said about me, and I know you're not stupid and I can't tell you that they're not true. But what I can tell you is that no matter what your other family tells you about us, we do love you. You are apart of our family in our hearts, even if you haven't been physically for the last thirty years. Don't believe what they tell you."

"They still don't know that I know," Nick replied. "Even if they did, they wouldn't lie to me about anything."

James shook his head. "You don't know that. They've lied to you about this for thirty years. They could have lied to you about anything else as well. They can't be trusted."

"No, you can't be trusted," Nick said. "I don't even know you other than what I've seen and heard from the news, and they don't exactly make you out to be a saint."

"I knew you'd react this way," James said calmly. "I understand that you don't trust me. I don't blame you. But I can prove to you that you can trust me. I never wanted to lose you in the first place Nick, and now I have to get you back and I'll do whatever I have to. You're my son."

"I know," Nick said weakly.

James frowned slightly. "What, do you wish you weren't?"

"No," Nick said, even though he still wasn't sure. "That's not what I meant."

"What do you mean?" James asked.

"Come on dad," Mike chimed in, "give him a break."

James held up his hand to silence his eldest son. "He's a grown man Mikey, he can answer a simple question."

Nick's previous nervousness and the slight fear he had had was now totally gone. He felt like he was being tricked or something and intimidated, by his own father. Even though they had pretty much just met, Nick felt like his father was trying to make up for lost time in one sentence and get him to say something stupid. But Nick was just going to be himself and not care what was going to happen. He doubted that after all these years his father was planning to hurt him or something, and if he was, then Nick would deal with that when the time came. But right now, he wasn't going to be scared by a stupid question.

"What I meant was I know that I'm your son, I fully understand that. But that doesn't mean that I have to trust you over the people who actually raised me. They lied to me because they had to, not because they wanted to or even enjoyed it. I know I'm your son and I've always been, but why does that all of a sudden change now, thirty years later? Just because you felt like it?"

James was slightly taken back by Nick's confidence and by the fact that he didn't seem afraid of such a powerful man. But that didn't keep him from replying as quick as he ever would.

"You don't have kids, so you don't fully understand," James said. "I had to go thirty years without being able to see or speak with my youngest son. No offense to Mikey at all, I love him just as much, but it still hurts knowing there's someone out there in your family that you just can't have anything to do with."

"That's your fault, not mine," Nick said.

"It's your mother's fault," James retorted.

Jack took this moment to jump in. "It was my fault. Things were getting complicated and messy, and I wanted Nicky out of there before anything bad happened to him."

James acted like Jack had never spoken. His eyes were still on Nick as he said, "Don't you for one second make the mistake of thinking that it didn't kill me to lose you."

"This is a two way thing," Nick said right back. "Who I thought were my parents aren't. My real dad is the biggest mob boss ever. That's not exactly easy to handle. I have no idea what to think about any of this, never mind what to do."

James shrugged. "Who says you have to? There doesn't have to be any thinking or any of that nonsense involved. Did you have to to think about every little thing with your other family?"

"No," Nick said simply, forcing himself not to say anything sarcastic or even mean.

"Then why do you have to now?"

"Because this is different. I'm thirty-six-years-old, and I just met my real brother and father that everyone in the country knows," Nick said with a sarcastic laugh.

James nodded slightly. "Don't worry, this'll all be sorted out soon enough and there won't be anything to think about Nick."

* * *

Nick had fallen asleep almost as soon as he had gotten into his bed. His mind was racing, and he had thought it was going to keep him up, but he was so exhausted that even the thousands of thoughts flying through his mind couldn't keep him up. His room was nice and dark and his warm bed was so inviting that it wasn't long before he was sound asleep.

But it didn't stay that way for long. Nick had a weird dream about Jason, his 'real' brother for the last thirty years. Jason had found out that Nick was really a Sparazza and refused to talk to him, even though they had been extremely close for as long as Nick could remember. In Nick's dream, after Jason stopped talking to him, his entire life seemed to be completely changed and borderline ruined because he was a Sparazza.

Nick awoke with a start, but not because of his dream. He had gotten the eerie feeling that someone was watching him, one that had haunted him even since the Nigel Crane incident. He sat straight up and couldn't breathe at first, but then he ran his hand through his hair several times and he calmed down, catching his breath. He was just about to settle back down into his bed when he was interrupted.

"Did I wake you?" A voice said from Nick's left, somewhere in the darkness.

Nick jumped so high he almost fell off the bed. His heart immdiately started pounding against his chest at a terrifying rate. He could hear it racing in his ears and felt his stomach jump up to his throat. He snapped his head to the left and stared into the dark until his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw the figure sitting in the chair near the window on the far wall.

James Sparazza flicked on the light on the table next to the chair, dimly lighting the room. He was looking at Nick with a blank expression. Nick, on the other hand, was as white as a ghost and was absolutely scared out of his mind. He was extremely tired, had no idea what was going on, and could no longer control his heart breat or breathing. Not a good start to this new situation.

"I'm sorry to be an intruder, but I think we got off on the wrong foot at diner tonight," James continued.

Nick tried to swallow his heartbeat. "So you broke into my house and watched me sleep?"

James shrugged lamely. "I didn't want to wait and forget what I want to say to you. I think having Jack and Mikey there made you more comfortable, but what we really need is a face to face, like this."

Nick was slowly calming down. "What else do you want to say to me?"

"I want you to be able to trust me, so I think there's a few things you should know." Nick didn't say anything, so James just went on. "I know you don't think I care about you, but I do, even though you probably think Sam Braun gave that money to Catherine because she's his daughter."

Nick was stunned at that statement. "What are you talking about?"

"When you were kidnapped, Sam Braun gave Catherine that money because he knew you were my son and I couldn't get back in time to pay it myself. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have done it. He just made it look like it was because Catherine needed it."

"That money did nothing," Nick said, not knowing what else to say.

"I still tried to save you. Besides that, why do you think Gedda backed off of Warrick?"

Nick was having trouble making sense of this. "Because-"

James cut him off. "Because I told him to knock it off. Gedda's a wannabe who kills the occassional trouble maker to feel tough. When he started screwing with Warrick, I ended that real quick before he got any stupid ideas."

"Why?"

"Because he's your best friend, and you're my son," James replied. "So I may not have been around for your whole life, but I still care. I still love you Nicky."


	5. Revelations

Nick had locked and relocked his doors three times since his father had left. How he got in, Nick will never know. He could barely comprehend what had happened after he had woken up and seen James Sparazza sitting in his room, waiting patiently to speak with him again. He didn't get why James had broken in to his house and waited who knows how long just to tell Nick that Sam Braun had paid the ransom money to Walter Gordon because he knew Nick was James' son and that Gedda had left Warrick alone because James had made sure it happened because Warrick's Nick's best friend. Nick didn't know why he had felt compelled to tell him that at the time he had chosen and why it hadn't been brought up at dinner, and he wasn't able to come up with a logical explanation because the knock at his front door broke him from his thoughts. 

Nick hadn't been able to sleep since James had left, so he had sat down on his couch to try and think. Now, he stood up slowly and went over to the front door, opening it quickly before he could talk himself out of it. He sighed in relief when he was met with Jack on the other side, and stepped back so the older man could enter, which he did with a small smile. Jack went over and sat down on the chair across from where Nick had followed and sat down on the couch again.

"Sorry about last night," Jack said, meaning dinner.

Nick shook his head. "It wasn't your fault. I would have had to do it sooner or later. I'm glad you and Mike were there though, it made it a little less awkward and weird."

"I didn't know he was going to try and trap you like that or intimidate you so much," Jack said with a sigh. "He just didn't know how to handle it any more than you did."

"Yeah, I kinda got that impression when he appeared in my room while I was sleeping."

Jack looked stunned. "He what?"

Nick nodded. "I woke up, and he was sitting in my room waiting for me to wake up. He felt that we got off on the wrong foot and wanted to tell me that he cares about me despite what I might think. He told me about Sam Braun giving the money to Catherine because I'm his son and that Gedda left Warrick alone because we're friends."

"That's all true, but I didn't think he was gonna break into your house and do that. He must have been anxious, he really wants you to trust him and want to be a part of the family," Jack said.

"Do I even have a choice?" Nick asked.

"Of course you do," Jack replied. "No one's going to force you to change your last name to Sparazza or anything. No one's going to force you to recognize that they're your family, they don't expect you to do that at a drop of a hat after thirty years."

"Then what do they expect me to do?"

Jack sighed again. "I still don't know what James' actual intentions are. He won't be straight with me, and he hasn't told Mikey anything. I think he expected you to be afraid of him, and you're not."

"Should I be?" Nick asked.

Jack shook his head. "No, I don't think so anyway. I can't see him trying to hurt you. I know for damn sure Mikey's not out to hurt you. He was happier than your dad that he finally got to meet you. He's done some bad things in his life, but what he regrets most is not having been around when you were a kid. He's glad you had Jason so you had a big brother even though he wasn't there."

"I had a dream that Jason wouldn't talk to me after he found out who I really am."

Jack frowned. "What do you mean, who you really are?"

"I'm not Nick Stokes, I'm Nick Sparazza. I'm not really Jason's brother. My brother is a criminal and my father is on the FBI's most wanted list. I'm not who Jason or anyone else thinks I am. I've lied to everyone my whole life."

Jack shook his head slightly. "No you haven't. Okay, so maybe your last name is a little misleading. That didn't change who you really are. That's only a minor detail on paper. Your last name doesn't decide who you are, you do. You're Nick. No last name required, because it doesn't matter."

"I wish everyone would see it that way."

"Who cares if they don't," Jack said with a shrug. "Fuck 'em if they care about your last name. It doesn't change who you've always been."

Nick sighed. "I still haven't told my best friend. I'm too scared he'll hate me for it."

Jack smiled slightly. "He'll probably be a little upset at first, which I know you know is understandable. But he's your best friend, which means he's not gonna hate you for it. He's gonna be there for you because he knows you better than anyone else, and he knows you're still you, even if it's gonna take him getting mad at you for a little bit to realize it."

* * *

Nick knew exactly what had happened and what was going to be said as soon as he walked into the break room. He felt psychic because he was predciting the next few minutes in his mind before anything was said. Just the look on Warrick's face, the people outside in the halls and other labs trying not to be obvious in their watching, and the tension that had been there even before Nick had walked in gave it all away.

Nick didn't have anything to say, so he just stood there, waiting for Warrick to either start yelling at him or walk up to him and hit him. When neither happened, he started to get anxious in anticipation. Something had to happen other than Warrick just standing there, staring him down. Nick couldn't be sure just how mad Warrick was, but he could guess by his body language and fierce look in his eyes that it was pretty close to outraged.

"Are you gonna try and talk your way out of this, or should I just leave now and save myself from your bullshit?" Warrick finally said.

"I can explain," Nick said, keeping his voice low.

Warrick nodded slightly. "Okay, so then explain to me how you could let me, who's supposed to be your best friend, find out from David fucking Hodges that your real father is Jimmy Sparazza. Explain to me how over fifteen years of us working together and being friends that you never felt it necessary to mention it to me. Explain to me how you could lie to me for that long about something this huge."

"I had to," Nick replied. "I couldn't tell you because I wasn't even supposed to know. There was an accident before I was taken away, and I wasn't supposed to remember who I really am."

"Who you really are is the son of a criminal. A murderer!" Warrick yelled. "Why couldn't you tell me? I wouldn't have blabbed it to the whole world or anything. Are you a criminal too, do you work with them? Is that why you lied for so long?"

"Of course not," Nick said. "Do you really think that?"

Warrick shrugged. "How the hell am I supposed to think anything about you anymore? You're not who you told me you were. Your family, that I've met dozens of times, aren't really your family, and for some reason, you couldn't tell me that. What else don't I know about you Nick?"

"Nothing," Nick said weakly. "I wouldn't have kept it from you if I had a choice. I didn't want it to mess anything up or get you involved in case something happened, and now something probably will, but I don't know what. I didn't want you to find out like this, I swear. I was going to tell you so it wouldn't come to this, but apparently everyone already knows."

"Stuff like this is hard to keep secret," Warrick said.

"Somehow it wasn't for thirty years," Nick said, shaking his head slowly before looking back up at Warrick. "I really am sorry Warrick. I get why you're mad, but I honestly never wanted this to happen. I guess I wanted to convince everyone, even myself, that that wasn't who I am. It's not who I am. I might have lied to you about my last name, but that's it. I never pretended to be someone I'm not, I only pretended I had a different name."

Warrick sighed heavily. "I'm sorry man, I shouldn't have flipped out on you. This is harder for you than me. I didn't mean to get so mad, I just didn't know what else to think."

"I don't blame you at all," Nick replied. "It's not something simple that's easy to handle hearing, especially from Hodges."

Warrick laughed lightly. "Yeah, that was the worst part. He enjoyed that he knew before me too. And you're sure there's nothing else you wanna tell me?"

Nick nodded. "I swear. That was the only thing I never told you."

"And you're still Nick?"

"Yeah, I'm still Nick."

Warrick smile widened. "Then I over reacted and I'm sorry. I'm here, as always, if you need me man. Hopefully you won't and nothing happens, but I'm here nonetheless."

Before Nick could reply, Brass walked in, followed by Grissom, Catherine and Greg. They looked back and forth between Nick and Warrick a few times before looking at each other silently.

Grissom spoke first. "He knows?" He asked Nick.

Nick nodded. "Yeah. Hodges," he said simply.

Grissom shook his head. "Remind me to threaten his life later," he said with a sigh.

Brass took the lead and sat down at the table, followed by everyone else. They all took seats before the police captain spoke. "So it's evident that the news about Nick is out, like we knew it would be. Some people are pissed, and others are scared. But it doesn't change anything. It's not a crime."

"Luckily," Nick added.

"But we're a team. What affects Nick affects us all," Grissom said. "This could all blow over in a week if we act like it's not a big deal, which it isn't. Nick's not a criminal, even if they are. As much as some people would like him to be, he's not guilty by association."

"It's stupid how it makes us look bad," Greg said. "No offense Nick," he added.

Nick shook his head. "No, I agree with you Greggo. This shouldn't be that big of a deal. Not yet anyway. And if it turns into a big deal, it's my problem. It shouldn't make you guys look bad."

"Screw how we look," Catherine said. "As long as you're safe, it doesn't matter."

Nick sighed. "I still don't know exactly what he wants from me. Jack doesn't even know, and neither does Mike. I have a feeling he wants more than just talking to me though, or else he wouldn't have waited this long."

* * *

A/N: I know it seems like I threw the Jack and Warrick scenes together, but I did it because they're going to be the closest ones to Nick in this story with the upcoming events. I wanted to show how much they care and how much Nick needs them. There's going to be a lot more action coming up, I promise. Thanks for the reviews.


	6. The Takedown

Nick could honestly say that he had no idea what the hell was going on. Brass had once again called him into his office, where Grissom was also waiting for the younger CSI. But they weren't alone. Two men about Brass' age were sitting on either side of Brass' desk dressed in very expensive suits and looked like they truly believed there was somewhere much more important that they'd rather be. Nick hesitated for a moment before going over and sitting down in the only empty chair which he presumed to be his. He sat there in the silence for what seemed like forever, looking around the room and waiting for someone the speak.  
When no one did, he initiated with the most obvious question. "What's going on?" 

"This is Agent Harding and Agent Waters from the FBI," Brass said in a monotonous tone. "They wanted to speak with you, and us."

"About what?" Nick asked, looking at Waters and Harding.

Harding, the men on Nick's left, spoke first. "We've been informed that you have a blood connection with the Sparazza's," he said matter of factly.

Nick nodded. "Yeah, unfortunately I do."

"You are Jimmy Sparazza's son, aren't you?" Waters asked.

Nick nodded again. "Yeah, unfortunately I am."

"That may be unfortunate for you, but it's actually very good for us," Harding said. Before he could continue, Brass cut him off.

"No," he said sternly.

Harding frowned slightly. "No what?"

"You're not using him to get information out of Sparazza. He's not even connected with them by anything other than blood. He knows nothing. They know he works with cops, so they would never tell him anything in the first place, so you're wasting your time," Brass said annoyedly.

"We've been after Sparazza for longer than Nick's been alive," Harding retorted. "He's always been too smart to trust anyone but Miller, Mike and a few others, so we could never get anyone else in. Now that we finally can, you're going to try and deny us this?"

Brass nodded. "Yes. Screw Sparazza, we're not gonna risk Nick's life so you can find out more of the same stuff you already know but can't use in court because you got it illegally. Sparazza's too smart for you, and Nick's not involved with them at all."

"But he can be," Waters argued, "and he probably will be. Sparazza communicated with Nick for a reason. Don't you want to know what the reason is?"

Brass shook his head. "I don't give a damn."

Waters looked at Nick. "Don't you care?"

Nick didn't know what to do, so he shrugged slightly. "I don't know. He probably doesn't want anything from me."

"We know for a fact that he's planning something involving you," Harding replied.

"How do you know that?" Brass asked. "From your illegal wire taps?"

"Gentlemen," Grissom chimed in in an attempt to keep the peace. "Let's be civil, shall we? I'm sure we can work something out."

Harding spoke before Brass could retort. "All we want is for Nick to get involved and see what he can find out. Sparazza's probably already planning that already."

"How exactly would that work?" Grissom asked.

"There's no doubt that there's illegal things going on in that family, especially drug trafficking. We want to put that to a stop, and Nick could help us do that. He could pretend like he's interested, get involved in the family business and find out important information. Virtually, it'd be like Donnie Brasco," Waters answered.

"So you want to send him in undercover into the most dangerous crime family in the history of the United States?" Brass asked.

"He's already a part of that family," Harding said. "Now it's just a matter of your involvement."

"You're not talking simply eavesdropping. You want him fully involved with their _illegal_ activity, correct me if I'm wrong," Brass said.

Harding nodded. "No need for correction."

Grissom looked over at Nick. "It's up to you Nicky my boy."

"No, it's really not," Waters inturrupted. "He can't decline helping the federal government when he can be this useful. This could put an end to all mob activity in the US because it all goes through Sparazza. So Nick, you don't really have a choice in this matter."

Nick sighed. "I rarely ever do."

* * *

Nick could never remember a time when he had been nervous to see his parents in his entire life. He always loved to go back home and visit them and loved it even more when they came to visit him up in Vegas. But this time was different for two reasons. One, he had no idea that they were waiting for him in Grissom's office. And two, this would be the first time he had spoken with them since his real identity had come out into the open. So his nerves were definitely understandable.

He entered Grissom's office tentatively, wishing that he wasn't being faced with this right after having dealt with the FBI agents. But he knew he would have to do this sooner or later, so he figured he might as well get it over with now, especially since they had flown all the way from Vegas to see him.

Nick closed the door behind him, getting the attention of Jillian and Bill Stokes, who were looking around at Grissom's unique office decorations. They quickly forgot about what had been intriging them so much and turned to face their youngest child, both of them smiling slightly. Nick hugged both of them silently before they each took a chair in front of Grissom's desk, Jillian and Bill sitting next to one another across from Nick.

Bill spoke right off. "I'm guessing you know why we're here."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, sorry I didn't call you guys, it's been pretty crazy here. You should have told me you were coming."

"There's a lot we should have told you," Jillian replied.

Before Nick could say anything, Bill continued. "She's right. We haven't been straight with you."

"Neither have I," Nick said.

Bill frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I've known about this the whole time," Nick answered. "I know I was supposed to not remember, but I did. I do."

Jillian was genuinely surprised. "And you never said anything?"

"What was I supposed to say? By the way, I know that my real father is the biggest criminal ever, then go finish my homework or something?" Nick shook his head slowly. "I guess I just wanted to pretent it wasn't true, and if I did for long enough that it would just go away."

"Things like this don't go away Nick," Bill said. "And from what your boss and Brass has informed us, it seems like it's only getting worse."

Nick nodded. "And I don't know what to do."

"Just promise us you'll be careful Nicky," Jillian said, tears forming in her dark eyes. "We'd be devastated if something happened to you."

"I will be, I promise," Nick said with a small smile that faded quickly. "Jason still doesn't know, does he?"

Bill nodded slightly. "He's the only one who doesn't. Your sisters do because they were old enough. Jason was too, but he was really sick as a kid and spent most of the time in the hospital. When he finally got better when he was eleven, you were already there and he didn't know any better. He thought you were always there, and we never had the heart to tell him."

"He'll still love you even when he finds out," Jillian said.

"I know," Nick lied, pretending that that wasn't what he was afraid of the most.

* * *

Nick had come to the conclusion that if you were going to be kidnapped, someone should let you know in advance. Not necessarily so you can try and escape, but more so so that you can be ready for it, because getting kidnapped randomly isn't the most fun thing in the world. What he hated most was not being able to remember what he had been doing before. All he knew for sure right now was that he was in the back of a van ('how original' he thought to himself) that was moving very fast and he had no idea who had grabbed him, but he had an idea as to why.

The van came to a sudden stop and the doors flew open. Nick sat there calmly, his arms resting on his knees with his head against the side of the van. He looked at the two men looking in at him and wished he knew who they were. One of them pulled out a gun and used it to motion to Nick to get out of the van. Nick complied, not seeing any other options what so ever.

As soon as he hopped out of the van, he knew exactly where he was. He was at the miniature golf place a few miles off strip. He had been there a bunch of times with the team and Lindsay for various reasons. But they weren't near the mini golf course. They were parked outside of the batting cages on the other side of the huge park. Nick frowned slightly, wondering why exactly they were here. He was answered seconds later.

The two mean each grabbed one of his arms and easily pulled him into one of the cages, quickly pulling his hands up above his head and tying them tightly around the cage with strips of barbed wire. The sharp spikes immediatly dug into Nick's wrists and blood started to slowly trickle down his arms and drip onto the pavement below him. Before he even had time to ask what the hell was going on, a hefty man came in and stood in front of him, dressed in a nice suit and smoking a cigar.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked. Nick shook his head. "I'm Tommy Surella, a notorious gangster here in Vegas."

"Then how come I've never heard of you?" Nick asked.

Surella laughed humorlessly. "Because I'm discrete to the cops, that's why. You may not know me, but you're old man does."

Nick swore silently to himself. He had been right about why he was here, he knew that Jimmy Sparazza had something to do with it. He just wasn't sure what yet, but he figured Surella would clue him in sooner or later.

"Your old man thinks he can do whatever he wants, wherever he wants," Surella continued. "Well, I got news for him, and you. He can't, so he had better get his ass outta town or I'll do to him what I'm gonna do to you."

"What the hell did I do?" Nick asked.

"Your his son. I'm sending the message through you kid."

Surella walked over to the side of the cage and put two quaters into the metal box and pushed a button before walking out of the cage and shutting the door behind him, making it clang loudly.

Nick would have tried to look behind him if he could have. He didn't even have time to move or think at all before he heard a _thwap _and saw a yellow blur come flying towards him out of the corner of his eye. It hit him square in the chest a split second later, knocking all of the wind from his lungs. He tried to breathe, but that only made him feel like he was choking worse. Five second later, he heard the sound again and was imapaled another time by a ball being launched at almost eighty miles an hour, right at his chest.

"You probably think this'll kill ya, but trust me, it won't," Surella said from behind Nick. "It's just gonna hurt like hell."

Nick had been hit two more times, a total of four, before his legs started to shake and he felt like he was about to collapse. They only thing that was holding him up was the barbed wire secured tightly around each of his wrists, which were now bleeding profously because of the added wait Nick had to put on them with each ball that hit his chest.

Nick found it somewhat comforting that he seemed to be getting hit in different spots on his chest and not the same one each time. Still, it did hurt like hell. He still hadn't caught his breath and could feel his ribs cracking the harder he tried. His mouth was filled with the taste of iron and managed to spit the blood out a few times before the balls finally stopped coming.

Surella came back into the cage and clipped the barbed wire, breaking it and allowing it to release Nick's wrists. Nick fell to his knees in front of Surella, still trying to get air back into his lungs.

"I think your old man will get the picture," Surella said before he walked away, the cage clanging shut behind him before the van sped off.

Nick was still trying to catch his breath, ignoring the fact that he was bleeding, when his already blurred vision suddenly went back. He squeezed his eyes shut and swayed a little despite his best efforts not to. He finally gave in to the pain and his exhaustion and allowed himself to fall to the right and backwards. Nick passed out cold before he hit the hot cement.

* * *

Sorry it took so long to update and that this chapter was all over the place. I had to fit a few things in before I started to take off with the action and plot of the story. Anyway, hope you're enjoying, and thanks for the reviews. 


	7. Decisions Decisions

Nick was awake before he opened his eyes. He didn't want to do so for fear of intensifying the already intense pain he was feeling pretty much all over his body. He was almost positive that someone was trying to chisel a tiny hole on the right side of the back of his head, and that that same person was sitting on his chest, making it almost impossible for him to breathe. The sickening taste of blood filled his mouth and his entire body felt weighed down as if his muscles had turned to lead and his bones were now stone. He tried to take deep breaths, but that only caused more pain, so after an extended period of time he finally gave up and slowly opened his eyes. 

Nick was laying in a room he didn't recognize, even though it was almost completely dark. The shadowy figures in the room and lining the walls weren't those of the rooms he would normally be sleeping in. They didn't match any of the rooms in his, Warrick's, or Catherine's house. It definitely wasn't the lab. Nick was out of choices as to where he was. He didn't know where he was, but he knew he was laying in a fairly comfortable bed with a soft dark red comforter thrown over him. Nick hadn't noticed he wasn't wearing a shirt anymore until he looked down and saw his bare chest that actually looked kind of like he did have a shirt on because of the dark blue and black bruises covering the surface of his upper body.

Nick wished he could move, speak, anything but just lay there. The previous events that had lead up to this slowly startedflowing back into his mind. When his memory was in full swing, Nick began to get a little concerned as to whether or not Surella had come back for him and taken him to wherever he was now. But that fear quickly went away as Nick figured that if Surella had in fact come back for him, he probably wouldn't have been so kind as to have put him a nice comfortable bed and remove his shirt. At least, Nick hoped he wasn't the one who had removed his shirt. Nick's answer came into the room moments after he had opened his eyes.

Nick watched as Mike walked across the room and over to the left side of the bed he was in. Mike looked down at him, seeing he was awake and obviously not sure of what to say. They were both silent for a few minutes before Mike finally said something.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Nick shrugged as best he could. "I've been better."

Mike nodded slightly. "I had a doctore friend of mine come over and check you out. Hospitals ask too many questions. He said that the damage isn't as bad as it looks, just severe bruising and it'll be hard to breath until your ribs heal up. You're gonna be fine though."

Nick barely paid attention to that information. There was more important things he wanted to find out. "Did you find me?"

Mike nodded. "Yeah, me and Jack did. Dad got a message from one of Surella's guys saying we better check up on you. When you weren't at home and didn't answer your cell, we knew exactly where to look. Surella pulls this shit all the time, just never on us. That was a big mistake."

"Why? What did you guys do?"

"Nothing," Mike answered quickly. "Don't worry about it Nicky, just rest and get better."

"Why did he go after me? I didn't do anything to him," Nick asked.

"He wanted to shake us up, intimidate us," Mike replied. "He wants to send a message and look like a bad ass. He knows better than to go after dad directly and you're like the new kid at high school. Don't worry, nothing bad is going to happen to you again, I promise."

"This wasn't that bad. I've had a lot worse happen to me in my life, trust me," Nick said.

"And I wasn't around to do anything about it," Mike said sadly. "You probably don't believe me, but I wish I could have been around when you were growing up. At least I had Jack lookin' out for you, and Jason too. They did a better job then I would have been able to anyway."

"Yeah," Nick said, nodding slightly. "Maybe, but they're not my real brother. You are. That counts for something."

Mike sighed heavily. "Unfortunately, it doesn't count for much in my case."

* * *

Nick was still having trouble breathing when he had clocked in for work the next night. Mike had driven him home and finally left after Nick had promised extensively that he was okay. He had taken a long, hot shower before getting dressed and going to work. His chest felt a little better than it had before and Mike assured him it would be back to normal sooner than he thought. Nick was looking forward to that indefinitely. 

But that had nothing to do with the fact that Nick's lungs wouldn't take in air right now. That wasn't a factor at all to his racing heart and sudden spinning of his head. That was all due to what he had just heard on TV that had taken his full attention away form whatever Warrick had been telling him as the two friends sat at the table in the break room.

"...gangster Tommy Surella was found dead today, along with his two main muscle men, in the back of a van in the alley off strip. Police have no witnesses or leads at this time, but if you have any information..."

The news anchors voice suddenly faded as Nick looked back over at Warrick quickly. Warrick had noticed Nick's sudden behavior towards the news and the fact that his face was now paler than he had ever seen it.

"What's wrong man?" Warrick asked.

Nick answered by getting up and leaving the break room quickly, heading for the vacant locker room away from the other people in the lab. Warrick instinctively got up and followed Nick into the locker room, getting more and more worried with every step. He hadn't heard what had spooked Nick on the news, but could figure out that it was not only pretty bad, but most likely involved his real family that just so happened to be gangsters.

When Warrick walked into the locker room, Nick was standing about ten feet away from the door, and even from there Warrick could see his hands were shaking. Warrick closed the door silently behind him and stood there, staring at Nick, waiting for something to happen or for his friend to just spit it out. When neither came, Warrick couldn't help but try to spark the conversation himself.

"You're scaring the hell out of me man," he said, trying to be calm. "What the hell's wrong?"

Instead of a verbal response, Nick pulled his long sleevedt-shirt over his head with his still shaking hands, revealing to Warrick the vast expanse of black bruises covering his entire chest. It was impossible to make out a distinct shape of any of them because there were too many and they all were conjoined to form one huge, terrible looking bruise. Warrick also noticed two white bandages taped across each of Nick's wrists, something he hadn't been able to see before because of his long sleeves.

Warrick was in a state of shock at this sight. "What the hell happened to you?" he managed to say.

"Surella," Nick said, finally finding his voice.

Warrick shook his head slowly. "Tommy Surella? The mobster?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah."

Then it hit Warrick. "He's dead, Catherine and Grissom are out on that case right now. He did this to you?" Nick nodded again. "When?"

"Last night," Nick replied. "He brought me to that place we always go mini golfing with Linday. His guys tied me up to the fence in the batting cage, and he turned it on and all the baseballs hit me. He said he wanted to send a message to my father."

Warrick's jaw dropped. "And now he's dead," he said quietly. "Do you think-"

Nick cut him off. "Yeah, I do. When I woke up, I was at Mike's house. They called him and Jack and told them to check up on me, and Mike knew where to look for me when I didn't answer my phone. He had a doctor friend of his look at me and said I was okay and Mike told me not to worry about Surella, that they made a big mistake."

Nick pulled his shirt back over his head, concealing his bruises and bandagedwrists,and took several deep breaths before speaking again. "They killed him Warrick, because of me they killed him. This isn't good."

Warrick held up his hands. "I know, I know, but just calm down. You didn't do anything wrong, and I bet this is going to be just like all the other times when no one can prove that your family did anything."

Nick sank down onto the bench in the middle of the room. "I don't want them to be my family. I don't want anything to do with this. I get into enough trouble as it is on my own without them helping me out by getting me tied to a fence and being a human pitching target."

Warrick sat down next to Nick. "I know this is crazyman, but you can't just hide from it. Have you talkedto Jack?"

Nick shook his head. "No, not for a few days. I haven't seen any of them for a while until last night when I woke up at Mike's." Nick sighed heavily andheld his head in his hands."This is so fucked up."

"It's gonna be alright man," Warrick said, trying to be helpful to his best friend even though he knew it was borderline impossible to do that right now, especially given the current circumstances.

* * *

JamesSparazza was not an idiot. In fact, he was one of the most intelligent people that Jack Miller had ever met in his entire life, and he'd met a lot of people in his years. There were very few people that he had met that he had that impression and overwhelming respect for immediatly.James Sparazza was clever, charismatic, confident and just an overall bright human being. Jack had only met one other person like that in his life, and that person just happened to be James' youngest son, Nick.

Jack felt helpless as he sat there at the table along with Mike, Jimmy and Nick. After Nick had gotten over the beautiful house he was in and the fact that it belonged to his father, the four men had sat down to talk business. James had asked Nick there for one reason and one reason only, and they all knew what it was and had been expecting it to happen sooner or later. It was really just a matter of time before this meeting took place.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we?" James said. "I know more about you than meets the eye. And what I know, I really really like. You're just like me Nick."

Nick cringed to himself at that thought, but kept his mouth and brain from formulating a sarcastic comment.

"I want you in my life," James continued. "Both as my son, and as an employee. Going thirty years with absolutely nothing isn't easy to do, and I want to take advantage of the fact that we're relocating to Vegas to do bigger and better business, and you're perfect for the job."

Nick looked over at Jack, who was starting down at the table in front of them with a blank expression on his face. Nick looked back over at his father, trying to ignore Jack's reaction. Nick knew he had to do this for the benefit of everyone, but especially himself. If he could accomplish his ultimate goal, then he could be lifted from the burden he had been carrying for thirty years. He was still unsure of exactly what this burden was, but he felt it's presence every day.

"I know that there's no need to say the obvious and that there's unspoken things we're all in agreement of. So now the question is, are you in? Because if you're in, you're in." James said in a very firm tone.

Nick looked at Mike, who smiled somewhat weakly, but smiled nontheless. Then he looked back at Jack, who was still staring at the table with no emotion on his face whatsoever, but Nick knew exactly how he was feeling. Despite being scared out of his mind and totally unsure of his capability to go through with this, Nick took a deep breath and nodded slowly.

"I'm in."


	8. Recipe for Disaster

"Jack."

Nick stood against the wall on the large back deck overlooking the vast backyard that was almost as big as the one on the ranch he used to live on back in Texas. It had surprised him how much the two houses were alike. But he wasn't worried about that right now. He was worried about the man standing in front of him, leaning against the railing of the deck with his back to the younger man. 

It was chilly outside, and the stars and moon shining above cast an eerie light over enough of the backyard and porch to light up some of it, but kept enough of it in the shadows to give Nick the chills that weren't just from the gentle wind blowing. Sure he didn't have a jacket on and only had a short sleeved t-shirt, but the entire situation added together was enough to make his hands shake and the hair on the back of his neck stand up straight.

"Jack," Nick said again, this time taking a few steps closer to the other man. "Will you at least look at me?"

Jack turned around abruptly and faced Nick. "What the hell do you think you're doing Nicholas?"

Nick could count on one hand the number of times he could recollect being called by his complete first name, and none of those times had been because he had done something good. Hearing Jack call him that made him shiver again. His stomach flipped at the look on Jack's face and the tone of his voice only made matters worse.

"I'm doing what needs to be done," Nick replied simply.

Jack shook his head. "No, it didn't need to be done at all. You don't even realize what you just did, do you?"

"Yeah, I'm fully aware of it."

"And you think it's going to be fine and nothing bad is going to happen to you? Look at what happened to you when you weren't even involved. Surella could have killed you, and you're fucking lucky that he didn't. You have no idea what you're getting into," Jack said, lowering his voice from almost yelling to an almost whisper.

"Then tell me," Nick said. "Tell me what he wants with me and why he was so quick to just let me in. Don't bullshit me Jack, I know he wants something from me."

"What do you want from him?" Jack asked.

Nick shook his head. "Nothing."

"Then what are you doing this for? The life you would have had if you had grown up a Sparazza? If that's it, you're wasting your time. You don't want that life Nick."

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Then what are you doing?" Jack yelled, not caring anymore if James or Mike heard them, which they probably couldn't anyway. "Risking your life for no reason? For a family that you don't even know? Or is it for your job, which tied in with this will get you killed?"

Nick stood there silently for a moment before answering. "It's kind of a mix of all of those," he said. "I don't know why, but all my life I've felt like every crime ever committed is my fault because I knew that it could have easily been me committing them. That's why I'm a CSI, to try and balance all that out. I've always wondered if I'm who I'm supposed to be, and I never thought I'd find out the answer. Now I can. Now I can get rid of the burden and the guilt and the curiosity and in the long run...do the right thing for once."

"You're looking for something that doesn't exist," Jack said. "You're playing with fire Nick, and you're holding a tank filled to the brim of gasoline while you do it."

"Then it's a good thing it's filled all the way up," Nick replied. Jack frowned. "Liquid gasoline doesn't ignite, it's fumes do. If it's filled all the way, I'm fine," he added with a small smile.

Jack shook his head slowly. "You're too smart for your own good," he said. "You're such a smart kid, and you can't seem to understand that there's a reason I fought so hard to keep you from this for so long. It was for your safety, and even though you're a grown man now, I can't accept that I can't make these decisions for you anymore."

"I know what I'm doing," Nick said, trying to reassure Jack. "Everything's gonna be okay, I promise."

Jack sighed heavily. "I wish you were the one that got to decide that."

"I can do this," Nick said, knowing that Jack knew what he was trying to do even though he couldn't explain it. "You know I can, you've taught me everything already."

"I've been living this life for longer than you've been alive," Jack said, locking eyes with Nick. "I've seen guys come and go, ones who thought they had what it takes. I've seen my fair share of guys get whacked for doing or saying the wrong thing, or just overall pissing the wrong guy off. I don't want to see that happen to you."

"It won't," Nick said weakly, not knowing what else to say because he wasn't sure what was going to happen any more than Jack was. No one could be sure if this was going to work, backfire, or do the complete opposite of what Nick intended.

"You don't know that," Jack replied. "Out of everything I've learned from this life, none of it is as important as this. It's something dire that you need to know and understand, and never forget, okay?"

Nick nodded and stood there, still as a statue, waiting for Jack to continue and ready to listen to every word he spoke.

"You can't trust anyone. No matter how much you think they love you, they'll step back if your blood pool gets too close," Jack said. "If you get whacked, it's always your best friend that does it. Expect everything so you'll never be surprised by anyone. You can't trust anyone because as your blood runs thin and your time runs out, no one will be listening. Not even if you scream. Your angels turn to devils, and then you finally figure out that_ no one will be with you in the end_."

"So what am I supposed to do? Lie and not trust anyone?" Nick asked.

Jack nodded. "You're going to have to live a double life, one of which is going to be a complete and total lie about who you really are." He sighed softly. "Now the only question that remains is, which life is going to be the lie." 

* * *

Nick's head was spinning as he looked around at the crime scene around him. He had just been here hours before, right before he had come into work. It was the exact same place with the exact same things, but they all looked different now. Everything had a yellow cone next to it denoting it as evidence and there was yellow police tape surrounding the entire area. Bright camera flashes light up some specific parts and obliterated others for breif seconds, then everything was once again cast under the flashing blue lights from the police cars nearby.

Nick stared down at the dead body at his feet, the blood pool that had formed from the through and through gunshot wound still wet on the how asphalt. He stood there, his camera and kit in hand, unable to move or think of anything other than what he already knew. He felt like he was working backwards. He usually had a scene where he had to find out what happened, but now, he already knew the ending and was putting it all back together. It was like a puzzle he had taken apart that needed to be fixed again.

Warrick noticed his partner standing there, apparently shell shocked, and only one thing came to his mind. He walked over to Nick, grabbed him by the arm and carefully pulled him to the side away from where anyone could hear what they were saying.

"Did you do this?" Warrick asked quietly.

Nick had still been staring at the dead body, but his eyes flickered to Warrick when the other man spoke. "What?"

"Did you do this?" Warrick repeated.

Nick shook his head. "No."

Warrick was still gripping Nick's arm. "You can tell me man, I'm not gonna turn you in or anything. It's not your fault, they wanted you to get involved fully." Warrick locked his eyes with Nick's."Did you do this?"

Nick shook his head again. "No," he said. Shaking his head and answering with only one word seemed to be the only thing he could do right now.

"Then what's wrong with you?"

Nick swallowed the lump that had slowly formed in his throat. "I was here when it happened. I didn't know what was happening though. Something to do with drugs or something. Then they shot him, and I was fine. I guess I was so shocked I didn't even realize what the hell happened. Then I saw him, and it all came back. I was there, here, and now it's different."

"You're working your own crime," Warrick said.

Nick shook his head yet again. "No, I didn't do it. I mean I was here and set up the stupid drug thing and whatever, but I didn't even have a gun. I already know what we're going to find here, and I haven't even processed anything."

"What are we gonna find?"

Nick sighed. "Absolutely nothing. That's the point, that's what they're good at. We won't even be able to figure out what happened, why, or what was involved, never mind who was involved. There's not gonna be anything to go on."

"But you saw it," Warrick said. "You set it up. Can't we use that to finally nail Sparazza? He had to have been behind all of this."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, of course he was. But I can't just go tell Brass what happened and hope for a conviction. I was involved, I set it up. Plus, they wanna build a case and get Sparazza several life sentences, if not the needle. It's gonna take alot more of these to get that," Nick said, motioning to their scene.

"So what are you gonna do?"

Nick sighed. "Pretend that I wasn't here, because no one's gonna find out any other way that I was."

Warrick nodded slightly. "So what happened?"

"I don't know. It was just supposed to be a simple drug-money exchange. He was buying some drugs from us," Nick said, looking back at the body, noticing how differnt the nice suit looked drenched in blood. "He was kind of a smartass and didn't trust me because he'd never met me before. Then he finally gave us the money, and then he was shot. It's all a huge blur, I can't even picture most of it."

"Maybe this is a bad idea," Warrick said. "You shouldn't have to do this to yourself Nicky."

Nick looked at his best friend with a sad smile on his face and in his dark brown eyes. "It's too late for that now. I'm in, and I have to see this through. Idon't have a choice. This is something I just have to do, no matter how much it sucks, it'll be worth it in the end." 

Nick looked back at the dead body of the man who had been alive mere hours ago and sighed heavily. "I hope so at least."

* * *

Thanks for the reviews, and I'm glad I've been able to update sooner now that I have more time to do so. I'm also glad to say that the action will be picking up steadily over the next couple of chapters, with less talk and more action. Hope you're enjoying and will continue to do so.


	9. In My Hands

Nick woke up with a start, his heart racing against his ribcage and his pulse throbbing in his ears. His mouth and throat were so dry that he was having trouble breathing. His head was spinning, adding to his already dizzy state and making his headache even worse. His hands were shaking for mutiple reasons, one of which being the nightmare he had just had. He couldn't remember the nightmare, he never could. That was a good thing, because they technially weren't nightmares. They were more like movies he watched in his head that he starred in. He replayed the previous day or night's events in his head while he slept, and when he woke up, he couldn't remember them. He always made sure he wouldn't remember them and that he'd feel better after doing the things he did.

Nick subconsciously grabbed the inside of his left elbow with his shaking right hand and laid back down into his pillows. He closed his eyes, finally becoming aware of the scar tissue he could feel under his hand. It hadn't been long enough, he thought, and he shouldn't have that on his arm. He didn't think he did it as much as he really did, but the feeling under his hand told him he was wrong. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter and tried to catch his breath, but by now he knew that it was going to take a few moments for him to do so.

The worst part was that he knew he had no other choice than to do what he's been doing. It was working, maybe a little too well, but working nonetheless. He wished it didn't so that he wouldn't keep doing it, but at the same time he was glad it was so that he had something to take the edge off it all and calm him down so he wouldn't go completely insane. He hated that he needed it, but despite that he was happy he had it. He had tried other ways of coping, but there were none.

Nick had never done drugs before in his life. He had never felt the desire and thought it was a stupid way to slowly kill yourself. He had known a lot of people in high school and college that did all sorts of drugs, but even though he was friends with some of those people, he never did them himself. He never wanted to do that or needed to do that. Until now.

Being a CSI in Vegas wasn't easy. Being a gangster in Vegas wasn't easy. Being both, at the same time, in Vegas was probably the most strenuous and difficult thing anyone could ever attempt to do, and Nick was that person. He was balancing trafficking drugs, half running casinos and sports books and fixing up cars to sell with solving cases similar to the crimes he himself was committing. Sometimes he was trying to solve a case with his own crime in it, and of course they were never solved. They never turned up any evidence. Nick hated that the most because that, added to what Jack, his father and brother kept telling him, only proved that he was very good at what he was doing, despite it's legality. Or lack thereof.

So Nick had needed to find a way to keep himself from freaking out. He needed to find a way to try and forget the bad things he was doing so he could sleep at night and live with himself. He didn't want to think about the drugs and cars he cold or the people he's seen die right in front of his eyes just because they made a stupid decision and were too greedy. He didn't want any of that in his head, and Mike had had the perfect solution.

Nick had actually been pretty drunk the first time Mike had handed him the needle. Nick had been trying to use alcohol to surpress his emotions, but it didn't work as well as he had hoped. Mike knew all too well how he felt, and wanted to help him. He knew that the heroin would work, and it did. It calmed Nick down after giving him a rush of euphoria and eventually made him feel as if the things he did were just illusions. Nick's mind successfully tricked him into thinking that the things he did really were bad dreams that he could just forget about and move on, guilt free.

Nick opened his eyes and glanced at the clock on his nightstand. He still had two hours before he had to be at work. He sighed as he looked at the clock. He never even had to set the alarm anymore because he knew that he would either still be awake by the time it was time to go to work, or that he wouldn't sleep enough to over-sleep. So with a heavy sigh, Nick got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes and stood under the steady spray of the hot water, trying to let it wash him away completely. He stood there, his eyes closed and head down, still clutching his left arm with his still shaking right hand.

* * *

Nick didn't look where Warrick was currently looking because he already knew what it was all too well. So instead of looking there, he looked at Warrick, who eventually looked back up at him with something Nick had seen in the other man's eyes only a handful of times. None of those times had even been good, and Nick knew that this time was going to be no different.

Nick felt Warrick's grip on his wrist intensify, causing him mometary pain before Warrick threw his arm back down by his side. He glared at Nick, tight jawed and definitely not too happy. Nick looked down at the floor and pulled his sleeve back down to its orignial position it had had before Warrick had rolled it up to reveal the marks he knew would be on Nick's arm.

"I can explain," Nick said, looking back up at Warrick.

Warrick folded his arms across his chest. "Good, I'd love to hear one."

Nick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're gonna hate me for this, and that be that as it may, but I need to do this."

"Why?" Warrick asked.

"If I don't, then I remember all the things I'm doing. I can't sleep or eat or do anything without it. It calms me down and helps me forget. I have to forget what I'm doing Warrick," Nick said quietly.

"If that's the case," Warrick replied, "then do you think that you should be doing the things you're doing in the first place? If you have to use heroin to make you forget something, you shouldn't be doing it."

"I have to go through with this, I don't have a choice."

"Yes you do!" Warrick nearly yelled.

Nick shook his head slowly. "I never did."

"Yes you did. You decided to go into this mob life. You decided to risk your life for no good reason, and now you decided to use drugs to make you forget that you've become like them."

Nick felt a lump forming in his throat. "I'm not like them, I am them, and it's scaring the hell out of me."

"Well it should," Warrick said. "It's scaring me too. I feel like I don't even know you anymore man. You're this different guy that everytime I see, all I can think about is what I know you're doing. I know you're doing the very things we try and prevent, and I know you're good at it because we haven't had to try and catch you yet."

"I'm doing this to help," Nick said.

Warrick shrugged slightly. "Help who? It's not helping the FBI. It's actually making it worse for them because you're so fucking good at being a criminal that Sparazza's making even more money, and they can't stop him or you. It's sure as hell not helping you because you're not _you_ anymore. You don't even look the same. You're skinnier and paler because you're a drug addict now, and I would bet a lot of money on you not sleeping much anymore."

"I'm helping everyone, even if it doesn't seem like I am," Nick replied. "I'm helping the FBI because Mike and my dad and Jack are telling me everything. Working with them makes me a better CSI because it's like working backwards, already knowing the answer."

"That works both ways though," Warrick said. "Being a criminal makes you a better CSI, and being a CSI makes you a better criminal."

"Do you think I like being like this?" Nick asked.

Warrick nodded. "It seems like it."

"Well I don't," Nick said. "I don't like lying to my friends and everyone else I know. I don't like having to be two different people and trying to be me at the same time. I can't be me because I don't even know who the fuck I am anymore."

Warrick sighed. "Neither do I," he said softly before he turned around and walked out of the locker room, leaving Nick standing there, alone.

As he watched the door close behind his best friend, there were several things Nick wanted to do. He wanted to go after Warrick and force him to understand that he didn't want to be the way he was and do the things he was doing. He wanted his best friend to be able to trust him. But deep down, Nick didn't blame Warrick, or anyone else for not fully trusting him because he had, in fact, changed drastically.

Nick wanted to yell as loud as he could and hit something as hard as humanly possible to try and release his frustration. But he knew that neither of those would do him any good. He honestly wished he could think of another way to make things right, but infultrating the mob that just so happened to be run by his father and brother was the only way. He was sick of living in fear and not knowing what he meant to be like. No matter what anyone told him, Nick still thought that he was always supposed to have been a Sparazza from the get-go, but Jack had changed all that to protect him.

Nick tried to clear his head of everything that was floating through it as he drove out of the crime lab parking lot. He tried to have his thoughts be the exact same as the atmosphere surrounding him in his car - comeplete silence, absolutely nothing. He didn't want to think about how he was losing his best friend and all his other friends because he may or may not be being selfish and stupid by trying to pull off a double life in hopes of attaining an unknown goal.

Nick knew where he was going to end up without even having to think about it. He didn't have to think once about where to go as he drove, seemingly aimlessly, to his destination. He knew he would end up there sooner or later, so he figured he'd just get it over with now so he wouldn't have to postpone the inevitable. Besides, he could really use a beer and a good talk with an old friend right about then anyway.

Nick didn't have to knock on Jack's door. For one, the door was unlocked. And for two, Jack had been expecting him anyway and was already sitting on the couch with two cold beers on the coffee table in front of him. Nick sat down in the recliner across from Jack and picked up one of the beers on the table. He took a long drink from it before holding it in both of his hands between his knees and looking up at Jack, who had been looking at him the whole time.

"All this bullshit finally starting to catch up with ya huh," Jack said as a statement more than a question.

Nick nodded slightly. "Yeah," he said quietly.

Jack took a sip of his own beer before resting it on his thigh. "Your dad's so proud of you," he said. "I would be too if I didn't know any better. Ya know, part of the reason I kept you away from this is because I knew you'd be good at it. Hell, you're better than I was."

Nick straightened up in his seat. "That's what he wants with me," he said, thinking aloud. "He wants me to take over."

Jack sighed. "He wanted to see if you could do it. I knew you could and didn't want to put that on you."

"Put what on me?"

"An ultimatum," Jack replied. "Ya know that saying that goes 'you don't get to pick your family' ?" Nick nodded. "Well, _you_ get to. You have two completely different families who love you, both differently, but they love you nonetheless. Some people don't even have one family that loves them, and you get two."

"So what's my ultimatum?" Nick asked.

"What's the real lie?"

"I'm not a real criminal Jack," Nick said. "I'm doing it for a reason."

"Have you figured out that reason yet?" Jack asked. Nick remained silent, so Jack continued. "Becasue I have. I know exactly what you want, and I'm tellin' ya kid, it doesn't exist."

Nick shook his head slightly. "What doesn't?"

"Vindication," Jack answered. "You wanna be freed from all the guilt and fear you've had all of your life. You wanna prove to yourself that this isn't you and get it off your chest. You want everything off your shoulders."

"So why doesn't that exist?"

Jack sighed again. "Because someone's gotta do it. Someone has to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders, and no one else has the guts to do it. That's what makes you **that guy**, because you're looking for something that doesn't exist. You're trying to do the impossible just because people think you can't."

Nick ran his hands through his hair. "Maybe I should have started running a long time ago."

"Hey," Jack said, regaining Nick's attention. "If you run from something, it only stays with you longer. If you fight something, it only makes you stronger."


	10. Where the Heart Is

Nick stared up at the silver pipes twisting above his head in what to some people would be a confusing maze, but what to him was nothing more than the undercarriage of a car. He knew this as well as the back of his hand. He'd been around cars all of his life, having an uncle and a cousin own a repair shop and Jason being a car buff. But Nick wasn't as concerned with what he was looking at as he should have been. He just laid there under the car, his greasy hands resting on his chest as it slowly moved up and down as he breathed around the flashlight in his mouth, lighting up the pipes above him.

Nick couldn't get the fight with Warrick from two days before out of his mind. That had put into perspective how things were now. It hadn't just suddenly changed, but up to that point Nick had been able to ignore the fact that his friends didn't trust him anymore and that he was a totally different person. He hadn't paid any mind to it until Warrick had rolled up his sleeve and stared at him with that look in his eyes. Nick wished more than anything that he could explain to Warrick and everyone else what he was trying to accomplish, but that was impossible seeing as how he couldn't even explain it to himself. He wanted them to understand that he was doing what he was doing for a reason, but in all honesty he had lost sight of that himself and now he didn't know what to think or do about anything anymore.

Deep down, Nick knew that he good intentions and wasn't committing crimes and whatnot because he enjoyed it. He was trying to help the FBI and himself at the same time, even though that seemed like an impossible task. He felt so lost and confused, not knowing what he wanted anymore or who he was. He felt like he was watching a TV show about the same guy with two different story lines with their own writers and plot twists dictating his life. He didn't know which way was up, and even if he did, he knew he'd still be falling down.

Nick was jolted from his thoughts when strong hands clamped down around his legs that were sticking out from under the Mercedes he was laying under. Before he had time to react, he was being pulled forward, rolling out from under the car on the dolley he had been laying on for over an hour. Once he was completely out from under the car, Nick was able to look up at the man who had pulled him out.

The flashlight dropped out of his mouth when Nick looked up and saw Jason looking down at him. He was dressed similar to Nick; in jeans and a t-shirt, but he wasn't covered in grease like his younger brother was. Jason extended his hand and Nick took it, allowing the other man to pull him to his feet. Jason smiled and took the rag off the hood of the car and wiped his hand before pushing it into Nick, who took it without taking his eyes off of Jason.

"You shouldn't leave that dirty thing on such a sweet car," Jason said, nodding to the Mercedes. "I'd be lying if I said I thought you could afford this."

"I can't," Nick said, then quickly shook his head. "I mean I can. It's not mine though, I'm just looking at it for a friend."

Jason nodded slightly. "A pretty rich friend."

The tone of his voice and what he had said gave away everything that Jason was thinking and feeling at that moment. Nick wished he hadn't picked up on it so he could try and talk his way around this whole oncoming ordeal, but he knew that those efforts would be futile and a total waste of time.

"Why are you here?" Nick asked.

Jason smiled slightly and held up his hands. "That's the greeting I get? Not, 'hey man, great to see ya'?"

Nick sighed. "Sorry, I'm just surprised. Why didn't you call?"

"Because I didn't want to end up having to do this over the phone," Jason replied.

Nick felt his heart leap into his throat. "Do what?" he asked, knowing all too well what Jason meant.

Jason didn't answer. Instead, he went over to the door at the back of the garage and opened it, going into the kitchen of his brother's house. Nick followed him into the house, but went left when Jason went right into the living room. Nick went into his bedroom and grabbed some clothes before heading into the bathroom and quickly getting into the shower. Jason sat down heavily on the couch when he heard the water turn on and stared down at the floor as if he were somehow memerized by it.

Nick frantically scrubbed the grease from his body, trying to distract himself from the reason Jason was sitting in his living room right now. This was the last thing Nick had ever wanted to deal with, but he should have known better and handled it sooner rather than putting it off for it to sneak up on him like this. His heart was racing against his ribcage as he threw his clean jeans and maroon t-shirt before going back out into the living room and sitting across from Jason on the recliner.

Jason looked up at Nick with a blank expression that turned to sad as he said, "I know Nicky."

Nick shook his head, playing dumb. "Know what?"

"Don't make me say it," Jason said, running his hands through his hair.

Nick remembered the first time Catherine met Jason and he had done that, ran his hand through his hair, that Catherine had commmented on how Nick always does the same thing and how much it makes them look alike. Sitting across from him now, Nick realized that they do have a lot of the same mannerisms, but that had nothing to do with genetics and everything to do with what Jason was talking about.

"Say what?" Nick asked, still hoping that he was wrong and Jason was here for another reason and that neither of them would ever have to say 'it'.

Jason dropped his hands to his side. "That you're not really my brother. That's what."

Nick dropped his eyes away from Jason's. "Oh, that," he said softly.

"Yeah, that," Jason said, making Nick look back up at him. "But that's not even the worst part."

"Then what is?"

"The fact that you couldn't talk to me about it. For some reason, you never felt inclined to pick up the damn phone and call me to talk about it when you should have. Why didn't you?"

Nick swallowed hard. "I don't know," he lied.

Jason called him on that lie. "Bullshit. It's because you thought I wouldn't treat you the same. You thought that just because we're not genetically related that I wouldn't love you anymore, even though you were my little brother for thirty-six years."

"Techinally it was only thirty," Nick said.

"Whatever," Jason said as he stood up from the couch. "It doesn't matter to me. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't matter now, just like it didn't matter then."

Jason walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, not able to contain himself. Nick sat in the chair, shell shocked, for a few moments before following Jason into the kitchen.

"When?" he asked to Jason's back. "It didn't matter when?"

Jason turned around, a mixed-emotion expression on his face. "When you were younger I guess, I don't know. It never mattered that you weren't my real brother."

Nick felt a wave of shock rush over him. "You knew?"

Jason nodded. "No one knew I did, I pretended I didn't. I didn't care that you weren't my real brother by blood because you were at heart. You are at heart. It's not gonna change that I care about you. Does it change that about me for you? Is that why you couldn't talk to me about it?"

Nick shook his head quickly. "No, of course not. I just thought that if you knew I wasn't your brother and that my real father-"

Jason cut him off. "Is a criminal? That doesn't matter either. That didn't matter, not until you let it."

"I didn't let anything happen, this isn't my fault," Nick said weakly.

"It's not your fault that you're a criminal now? That you lie to your friends, who don't even know you anymore? It's not your fault that I can't even look at you right now without feeling sick to my stomach at what you've become?"

Nick felt like someone was slowly clawing his heart out of his chest. "Who told you?"

"Kelsey," Jason answered, referencing their older sister, who just so happened to have become best friends with Catherine over the years. "But don't try to pass the blame off on anyone, they're just the messengers. This is all on you."

Nick shook his head. "You don't even know what's going on. I'm doing it to help."

"It was like that at first, now no one knows what you're doing. I bet you don't even know what you're doing."

Nick sagged his shoulders in defeat and looked down at the tile floor beneath his feet. He felt like at that exact moment, everything that had happened over the last however many weeks was suddenly piled on his back, forcing him to bear an overwhelming weight. He wished that there was a way to shake it all off and make it all go away. But it was much more likely that the weight would crush him and bury him beneath the floor he was standing on.

"But that's still not the worst part," Jason continued, regaining Nick's attention. "The worst part is that you didn't come to me with this huge problem when you knew damn well you could have. That's what I'm here for. Or is that Mike guy a better big brother than me?"

Nick could barely hear Jason over his heartbeat pumping through his ears. "No, that's not it."

"Then what is it? Just because your last name isn't really Stokes, that erases everything? Does a stupid fucking last name change thirty years of your life? Does it?"

Nick couldn't answer. All he could do was stand there and listen, so Jason went on.

"It shouldn't for you because it doesn't for me. If I had to go back and re-do those years, knowing you weren't my blood brother, I wouldn't do one single thing differently. I would still beat up our punk neighbor that stole your bike. I would still yell at those guys in high school who thought they could mess with you just because you were younger and better at baseball than them. I would still yell at your for getting drunk when you were only sixteen, but thank God that you called me instead of trying to drive home. And I would still worry about you all the time because you risk your life for other people and know that someday you might not be here anymore because regardless of your last name, your my little brother Nicky," jason said, his voice starting out angry and slowly fading into a quiet whisper at his last five words.

"It doesn't say anything," Nick said, his voice weak and distant seeming. "I know I should have came to you with this, but I was so scared about everything and didn't want to have to think that you're not my real brother because that's not fair. It's not fair to me to know that the person who's looked out for me my whole life...technically isn't even my brother. But I don't care, I was just worried you were. I'd rather lie to myself and everyone else, pretending you're my real brother than nothing at all."

Jason walked over to Nick and firmly put his hands on his shoulders. "Listen to me man. You've fucked up in your life before, and I never turned my back on you. You've done some pretty stupid things, but you know that you can always count on me. This time is no different. You're still my little brother, genetics be damned. I don't care how stupid or scary or illegal it is. You're still my little brother."


	11. Stop the World

Nick knew Jason was still staring at him, he didn't have to look up to know that. Nick had no clue as to what to say or do. He just stood there, glued to the spot, wishing everything would just go back to normal. He wished he could get selective amnesia and forget this whole thing, along with the fact that he knew very well that the man standing five feet away from him wasn't his brother. It didn't change how they felt about each other, but it still mattered. It still sucked and hurt to know that truth. It was worse that Nick was so affected by it when Jason didn't seem to care about it at all. Nick couldn't get past it and wished it weren't true instead of just shrugging it off and moving on with his life.

That was really the problem though, Nick realized. His life had become something he never thought it would be, and he knew it was his fault. He let this happen, chose for it to happen, and now he didn't know where that was going to take him. He wanted to get out, run away, disappear. But he knew he couldn't. He looked guilty of crimes enough as it is, it'd be like putting the nail in his own coffin if he just up and left. Then again, he didn't really care that everyone thought he was a criminal because he was a criminal. He did do all those things everyone thinks he did. He should just do everyone a favor and end everything, but the only way he knew how wasn't exactly the best way out. It was the perfect way out.

Nick looked up and met Jason's eyes. They were both still standing in the exact same spot they had been for what seemed like forever. Jason looked at Nick for a few more moments, waiting for him to say something. When he didn't, Jason took the initiative.

"Just let me help you Nicky," he said softly.

"Kill me," Nick replied.

Jason shook his head in disbelief. "What?"

"Kill me," Nick repeated. "You wanna help me, then kill me. I want you to just kill me."

The tone in Nick's voice made Jason's heartbeat skyrocket. "Stop fucking around," he said firmly.

"I'm not kidding," Nick said seriously. "I don't want to do this anymore, but I can't just get out and then everything goes back to normal. There's no way out other than this, and I can't kill myself. I tried that a few times and it didn't work out."

Jason couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What? You tried to kill yourself before?" he asked.

Nick nodded. "A few times. When I was buried alive and was running out of air and time, I was gonna, but then my team showed up and Warrick was there and made me put it down. Then when I got out and couldn't stpo having nightmares or panic attacks, I wanted it to just be over. I wanted to do it at least five times, but I never could."

"Because you can't go out that way," Jason said. "You don't want that Nick."

"Yes I do," Nick said. "You have no idea how much I want to feel nothing anymore. I want this to be over. I want everything to be over."

Jason shook his head. "Not like that," he said. "I can help you, we can get through this and make everything okay again. It just got taken too far, that's all. It can be fixed Nick, just give it a chance."

"Do you understand what I've done?" Nick asked. "I've trafficked countless kilos of drugs. I've stolen and made hundreds of cars better and sold them for absurd amounts of money. I learned how to count cards so I can help catch people doing it in casinos. I learned how to get betting lines evened out so that we make more money. I've seen far too many people be killed right in front of my eyes. And to make it all seem like a dream, I've done heroin almost every day since this all started. Then in my other life, I go to work everyday and see the people that love me and care about me slowly start to hate me because they know what I'm doing and what I've become. I investigate some of the crimes I committed or saw committed and know what happened, but can't do anything about it. I realize more and more everyday through my double fucking life that I'm not helping the FBI or anyone else build a case against the Sparazza's. I'm making them more money and getting better at what I do every fucking second of the day."

Jason opened his mouth to speak, but Nick cut him off before he could get anything out. "I just can't handle this anymore. I was hoping that maybe I would OD on heroin at some point, but I've used it so often I just built up a tolerance. I can't do this anymore Jason. You want to help me, so kill me."

Jason didn't respond in anyway. He stood there, staring at the younger man in front of him, feeling as if he were having a bad dream. He wished it were just a dream and that his little brother hadn't just asked him to end his life for him. He wished he had something to say to change Nick's mind, but he doubted his words could have any affect on him anymore. So he just stood there silently, unable to do anything, even when Nick turned around and walked out of the room.

After a couple minutes, Jason was tempted to go find where Nick had went to, but didn't have to. Nick returned to the kitchen, back to where he had been standing, but this time with a gun in his right hand. Jason stared at the metallic silver object nervously, but not because Nick was pointing it at him. Nick was holding it down by his side, casually, as if it wasn't a big deal that he had just gone and gotten his gun. He stood there for a moment, staring at Jason, who was staring at the gun in his hand.

Nick suddenly took a few steps foward, closing the gap in between him and Jason. All in one swift moition, he walked up to him and held the gun out at arm's length, meaning for Jason to take it. Jason kept his eyes on the gun the whole while Nick had walked over to him and still when Nick held it out for him. After looking at it for a few moments with it so close to him, Jason's eyes snapped up from the gun to Nick.

"This isn't funny Nick," Jason said softly.

"I'm not laughing Jason," Nick replied. He pushed the gun into Jason's hands, but he didn't grip it so Nick couldn't let go of it yet. "You said you wanted to help."

"I want to help you," Jason said, "not kill you. I don't want to hurt you."

"It's not gonna hurt," Nick said. "Not if you do it right."

"Do you think that this is fair?" Jason asked, trying to buy himself some time. "Do you think it's fair to ask someone, let alone your brother, to take your life? It may be easy for you to think about, but what about me? Do you really think I could do that to you?"

"Do it for me," Nick corrected.

Jason shook his head again. "No. I'm not doing it. You're fucking crazy Nick."

Nick pushed the gun against Jason again, but this time Jason pushed him back. Nick kept trying, and Jason kept pushing him back. Jason was not only older than Nick, but he was also taller and stronger. He didn't used to be this much stronger than Nick, but he figured the heroin was to thank for that. Nick putting up a fight would be futile, but he was going to try anyway.

They were in the living room now, and Nick decided to try and different tactic. He quickly flipped the gun around and pressed it into his own chest before grabbing Jason's arm. Jason was quicker however, and since he was stronger he was able to pull the gun completely away from Nick and throw it onto the couch ten feet away. He grabbed Nick's wrist tightly with his strong right hand and twisted his arm, turning Nick around. Jason kicked out the back of his knees and pushed Nick forward until his chest was against the hardwood floor he had been standing on moments before.

Jason held Nick down firmly, his struggles doing nothing against the other man's hold. Jason knelt down, one knee on the floor and the other in the small of Nick's back. After a few more tries, Nick finally gave up with a sigh and closed his eyes.

Jason released Nick's arm, but didn't stand up. "Are you done being a fucking maniac?" When Nick didn't respond, he stood up slowly. "Stop acting like there's nothing you can do to fix this. You know there is, you just gotta figure out what it is. Don't give up when you haven't even tried."

"I don't know what else to do," Nick said weakly as he slowly opened his eyes. "I don't want anyone to end up getting hurt because of me."

Jason bent down, grabbed one of Nick's arms and pulled him to his feet before responding. "Everything's gonna work out man, but not if you give up. Don't ever give up, okay?"

Nick shrugged weakly. "I don't think I have any other choice."

Jason nodded. "Yes you do. You can fight this. You are the smartest person I know. You can't seriously try to tell me that some washed up gangster is smarter than you are. He may know how to make millions doing illegal things, but you know how to _think_. You have this totally insane, but at the same time ingenius thought process. Coming up with schemes is like your past time. If you tell me that you're not gonna try to come up with the greatest plan ever, you really are crazy."

Nick smiled slightly. "I'm crazy no matter what."

Jason nodded again. "Yeah, that's true, but it's to what extent really."

Before either one of them had any time to do anything, the front door flew open and Mike walked in with James right behind him. Jack followed soon after, his face pale and masked by a defeated expression.

"What the hell's going on?" Nick asked.

"We need you to come with us," James said. "Both of you. If you will," he said politely, motioning to the still open door.

"Nick, what the fu-" Jason started, but was cut off.

"Silence is golden," Mike said sarcastically.

Nick looked at Jack, who was clearly avoiding his eyes. "Mind if I ask what's going on and where we're going?"

"I'd mind it less if you would just come with us," James said. "Don't worry Nick, everything's gonna be okay."

Nick looked at Jason, who looked terrified. Nick was scared himself. He didn't know what was going on or why. James had clearly known that Jason had been there and had either been waiting for him, or had chosen this point in time to carry out some part of his plan that was still unknown to Nick. Sighing heavily, Nick slowly walked out of the house, not looking up at Jack as he past him. Jason followed him out, not knowing what else to do.

As the exited the house, Nick looked up at the setting sun and focused all his attention on willing everything to really be okay. He didn't know what he would do if something happened to someone he loved, especially if it was because of this. He hoped that Jason was right and that he'd be able to find a way out of this, preferably sooner rather than later.


	12. Over and Out

Italics in the begin depict what happened being replayed in Nick's mind.

Enjoy.

_Nick was fairly sure that his hands were shaking, but couldn't really tell because his whole body was numb. He couldn't feel anything, which was something he should be used to by now. All the heroin he'd been using made him numb, that was the reason he used it. But this wasn't a numb feeling from a drug. He was numb from fear, something he hadn't been in almost three years. The last time he remembered feeling like this, he was buried under ground. Then, he was afraid for his own life. Now, he was afraid for someone else's and although right now it seemed as though he had the choice in it, he doubted that was how it was going to stay._

_"You said you were in."_

_The voice cut through the silence and made Nick jump slightly. He was trying to tell himself this was all a bad dream, but more and more he was beginning to feel the reality and seriousness of the situation at hand._

_"I am," Nick said weakly._

_James Sparazza stepped forward and held out the gun. "Then prove it."_

_Nick shook his head, not looking at his father but rather at his brother for the last thirty years of his life. "This isn't going to prove anything."_

_"He's a threat," James said. "He wants you to be a Stokes, not a Sparazza. What are you?"_

_Nick wanted to run away from everything, especially this. He didn't want to answer because he didn't have one. He didn't know who or what he was anymore, and he didn't want Jason getting hurt because of that. As Nick was turning all of this over in his mind, his father leaned forward and put the cold gun in his right hand and squeezed his wrist in encouragement._

_Jason stared up at Nick from where he was sitting in the wooden chair in front of his younger brother. His hands were tied securely behind his back, and he wouldn't be able to move if he tried. He couldn't, and didn't, do anything other than just sit there, staring up at Nick._

_"I can't kill him," Nick said quietly. "I won't."_

_"Why not?" James asked._

_Of the five people in the room, only two were speaking. Jason sat there silently, as did Jack and Mike. The latter two didn't know what to say or do. Neither one of them had expected this, and their were utterly stunned. Jason understood what was going on and what was being asked of Nick. He understood what would happen if Nick didn't do what he was told. James was obviously questioning his loyalty to his real family, and needed some way for Nick to prove that he wouldn't roll over on them. Jason know fully understood everything. He knew why Nick was so scared and didn't know what else to do. If he just up and left his new job, they would be forced to kill him. He knew too much. And if one of the Sparazza's guys didn't kill him first, someone else would._

_Nick knew the deal as well. He knew what he got himself into, and now he had to figure out a way to get out of it. He knew that neither Jack, Mike, or his father would be the one to kill him. But one of the other guys that worked for his dad would. It was an unwritten rule of the mafia. You do what you're told and don't do anything that makes people think you're a rat. Nick could easily be a rat because of his other job, and they needed proof he wasn't. This wasn't exactly the easiest proof for Nick to give them._

_"I can't kill him," Nick repeated, not really answering the question._

_"It's not that hard," James said. "Aim in, and pull the trigger. You have the best shot out of the entire LVPD force, I think you can hit from point blank range."_

_Nick shook his head again. "I can't kill someone I love."_

_James didn't seem surprised at all. "Does he mean more to you than Mike does?" Nick didn't answer, but he looked up at Mike, who was looking back at him. "Mike's your real brother Nick," James added for good measure._

_"I know that," Nick said. "I shouldn't have to chose. I wouldn't hurt either one of them. I don't want to hurt either one of them."_

_"It's not gonna hurt if you do it right," James said, echoing Nick's own words to Jason from earlier. "What's the most important thing in this world to you?"_

Nick stood in the freezing rain, shaking from head to toe, but not caring at all. He could barely hear the wind blowing over the beating of his heart in his ears. His t-shirt was sticking to his skin, making him even colder. The rain whipped against his exposed skin, water running down his face from his soaked hair. Any sane person wouldn't have come out in this weather unless they had no other choice, and Nick figured he was insane, but that he also didn't have another choice.

He had been standing in the same spot for five minutes, trying to regain his strength that he had exerted to get here. He had ran all the way, almost five miles, as fast as he could, not stopping once. It had started raining before he had left, so when he was outside it was as bad as it could get. His legs and chest hurt and he felt light headed, but that's not what he cared about right now.

Nick was trying to force his arm up so he could knock on the door in front of him when it suddenly opened. Nick sighed slightly in relief. He stood there, shaking violently from the cold and the fear, unable to answer the questioning look on Warrick's face.

"What the hell happened Nick?" he asked as he grabbed his arm and pulled him inside the warm house. He turned to go get Nick a towel, but Nick grabbed his wrist, holding him back. Warrick felt the sting of Nick's icy cold fingers on his arm and stopped even though he could have easily broken Nick's weak hold.

"He tried to make me kill Jason," Nick said breathlessly. "Jason showed up to talk to me and then James, Jack and Mike came and took us to their house and tried to make me kill him to prove that I was loyal to them."

"Is he okay?" Warrick asked.

Nick nodded. "I wouldn't do it. I couldn't. I thought they were gonna kill me instead, but they let it go. They let me go, and now I gotta get out."

"Slow down Nick," Warrick said. "Let me go get you some dry clothes."

Nick shook his head. "No, fuck that. I gotta talk to you. Now, it can't wait."

Warrick took of the zip-up sweatshirt he was wearing and threw it over Nick's shoulders. "Okay man, just calm down."

"I have to get out," Nick said. "I'm done with them, I don't want someone getting hurt because of me. I don't want to be them anymore, I want to be me. I'm done not being me."

Warrick was about to say something, but Nick kept talking. "I'm sorry for everything I did. I never meant to be a criminal and a jackass. I don't know why I did, but that's not me, you know that. I'm gonna fix this and make it all go away and I'm sorry I fucked up so bad, but I need your help."

"What do you need me for?" Warrick asked, still understandably mad at Nick.

"Because I can't do it by myself, and you're the only one who I can trust," Nick replied. I know you're mad at me and I understand why, but I'm done. I don't want you or anyone else to get hurt from this. I can fix this, but I need you to help me. I need you to trust me."

Warrick was still skeptical about this whole thing. He had talked with Catherine, Grissom and Brass several times about Nick, and they all agreed that the whole situation was incredibly complicated and out of the ordinary. Nick had transformed into a completely different person, and they were all aware of the things that he had done. Warrick wanted Nick to be the real Nick again, but wasn't sure if that was ever going to happen.

"Why should I trust you?" he asked somewhat coldly.

"Honestly, if I were you, I wouldn't trust me either," Nick said sadly. "But I can't do this double life anymore. I can't try to be two different people, none of which are actually who I really am. I don't wanna be Nick Sparazza or even Nick Stokes. I just wanna be Nick again."

"You really think Sparazza's gonna let you out just like that? You know too much, and you're his main guy. You can't just ask for a mulligan on this one Nick," Warrick said.

"I know, but i got myself into it, and I can get out of it. But I can't do it by myself, especially without my best friend. I know I've fucked up unbelievably bad and should have never gotten involved with this, but I did."

Warrick sighed. "You made a huge mistake."

Nick nodded. "I know. That's what I do, I make mistakes. I think too much and try to make everything perfect all the time when, by now, I should understand that my life will never be perfect. I'm still learning things I ought to know by now. The only thing I know for sure is that I can trust you and I can figure out a way to make this okay again."

Warrick sighed again and shook his head slowly. "You already know what my answer is man. Even though I seemed like I wouldn't be behind you in this, you know damn well that I am. I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone. Whatever you need, I'll do it."

Nick smiled widely. "Thanks bro."

Warrick smiled as well, but it faded after a few moments. "So what happened?" he asked.

"Jason showed up because he knows everything and was mad at me for not telling him. He's known for a long time, and didn't get why I never talked to him about it. We were fighting when my dad, Mike and Jack came in. They took us back to my dad's house and told me that I had to kill him to prove that I was one of them."

"Why didn't Jack or Mike do something?" Warrick asked.

Nick shook his head. "I don't think they knew what my dad was planning on having me do. I didn't do it and thought they were gonna kill me instead, but they let me go. They sent Jason home, which is good because now he's safe. Then I ran here because I need to get out before someone gets hurt."

"What if it's you that gets hurt?"

Nick sighed. "Be that as it may, I don't care. As long as you and everyone else is safe, I'm fine with whatever happens to me. I started this whole thing, and now I'm gonna end it before something bad happens. I can't let anything bad happen."


	13. Come Right Out and Say It

Jim Brass picked his head up from it's hanging position as he walked down the hallway just in time to see Nick Stokes closing in on him. As soon as he saw the younger man, he turned on his heel and headed in the other direction after having made brief eye contact with the CSI. Brass knew that this wouldn't stop Nick from his pursuit, so he quickened his pace to try and guarantee his escape from the other man. The police captain had no inetention of speaking witht he other man. No one in the lab or police department wanted to be around Nick because he wasn't the same anymore. He wasn't Nick Stokes, he was Nick Sparazza to them. A criminal. A traitor. An enemy.

Brass and Grissom had had long conversations about said young man, and both were saddened to see the road he headed down. Nick wouldn't listen to anyone who was trying to help him from getting into something he couldn't get out of, but he hadn't listened to anyone. Now, they only associated with him when they had to at work and that was that. So it was no surprise that when Brass had seen Nick coming, he'd changed his intended course of direction for the complete opposite one.

Brass was just about to turn down the next hallway and make a break for his office when he heard footsteps coming closer behind him. Brass didn't dare turn around; he told himself he wasn't going to waste his time with a lost cause. He was four feet from the safe haven of his office when Nick's voice cut through the silence of the police station.

"Brass," Nick said suddenly.

Brass took two more steps and reached for his door handle. Nick spoke again. "Brass," he said, his voice softer this time.

Brass turned around to face the younger man. "What?" he asked coldly.

Nick visibly flinched. "Can I talk to you?"

Brass sighed heavily. "We've tried this Nick, everyone has. You didn't want to listen then, and I bet you don't want to listen now. We tried to stop you from becoming like them, and you didn't want to believe it. You didn't believe the people that love you, so you're on your own now."

Brass turned back around the slipped into his office, dramatically slamming the door behind him. He went straight to his desk and sat down in the large leather chair, but it wasn't as comfortable as he remembered it being. He felt like he was sitting on stone rather than soft leather. He buried his face in his hands and tried to convince himself that what he just did was for the best. He was trying to convince himself that the kid he just turned his back on deserved it. He had always viewed Nick as something more than a co-worker. The kid was so outgoing and easy to get along with that he made it hard not to build a bond with someone like that. But Brass knew that that wasn't the same kid that was he had just spoken to outside his door.

Brass could recall the exact moment he knew that Nick Stokes wasn't the same as Nick Sparazza.

_Nick sat down in the chair across from Grissom and Brass with a look of pure and utter annoyance on his face. He had seemed aggiatated all shift, but now it was really showing. The two older men had called him into Grissom's office to discuss how everything was going with James and the FBI's "investigation." They were both worried because Nick had been acting really different and they weren't sure why._

_"We think this whole thing with your family is getting a little out of control Nick," Grissom said._

_Nick sighed. "Wasn't that to be expected?"_

_"Not to this degree," Brass answered. "The affect on you isn't what we were expecting, and frankly it isn't a good thing."_

_"What were you expecting?" Nick asked. "My father is the biggest crime boss in history, and I got thrown in the middle of it."_

_"We didn't want you to get involved in this," Grissom said. "We were against it from the beginning. You have nothing to prove to anyone, and this isn't doing anyone any good."_

_Nick threw his hands in the air. "Well what do you want me to do?"_

_"We want you out," Brass said. "Before something happens to you."_

_"What more could happen to me?" Nick said. "In my life, I've been molested, held at gunpoint multiple times, stalked, and buried alive. Then to top it all of, I'm working for my father now, who's worse than all the bad guys in every mob movie ever made. What else could make that list?"_

_"We don't want to find out," Grissom said. "We're getting the feeling you're not doing this to get skeletons out of your closet that you didn't put there."_

_"Do you think I'm doing this because I like being a criminal?" Nick asked._

_"We think that's where this is headed, and we want to help you Nick," Brass said._

_Nick shook his head slowly as he stood up. "I don't need help, I'm fine."_

_As Nick headed for the door, Brass had to get the last word in. "You don't even know what's happening to you. You're not you anymore."_

_Nick turned around with his hand on the doorknob. "Maybe this **is me**," he said before openening the door and leaving the office._

That night, it hadn't been what Nick had said so much as how he had said it and the look in his eyes as he had said it. His voice had somehow lost it's charming Texas accent and his eyes had faded to something of a gray. Seeing him the way he was now made Brass realize that this wasn't the kid he'd known for the last fifteen years. He was completely different, and not in a good way at all.

Brass sat there for three hours, thinking about the downward spiral Nick had lunged into. The worst part was, he didn't seem to care and no one could help him. He didn't see what he and his family were doing to him. He was transforming into this completely different person that was too good at what he was doing. Being good at illegal activities isn't something to be proud of.

Brass sighed heavily and stood from his chair. His back was sore and he could feel a major headache coming on from thinking too hard. He ignored the unfinished and neglected reports on his desk and switched off his light. He trudged to the door and opened it slowly, the door feeling heavy and as if it were on hundred-year-old hinges. Brass looked down at the floor, and upon doing so, he realized why the door felt so heavy.

Nick craned his neck and looked up at the police captain who had just emerged from the cave of his office. Nick scrambled to his feet and ran his hand through his hair as he always did out of nervous habit. Brass looked at Nick and couldn't help but feel sorry for him at the look of how pale he was. There were bags under his red rimmed eyes that looked tired and as if they had just finished shedding tears.

"Please, just listen to me for five minutes, then I'll leave you alone," Nick said quietly.

Brass merely nodded at the younger man and stood as still as a statue.

Nick took a deep breath to try and clear the lump in his throat before he began. "I messed up, worse than I ever have, and I know that I can't make it all magically better. But I'm sure as hell gonna try. I don't know what came over me. I felt responsible for everything my family had that I wanted to fix it, but ended up doing it myself. Believe me, this was never my intention. I never meant to hurt you guys and let you down like this."

Brass opened his mouth to speak, but Nick kept going. "I know that this is nobody's fault but my own, which is why I'm trying to fix it. I'm gonna fix it, I know I can. But in case something goes wrong and something happens to me, I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, for everything. I already apologized to Warrick, Grissom and everyone else. I fucked up, but I'm not gonna let it stay that way. I wish I had a better excuse, but I don't. I really am sorry."

Nick stood there for a moment after he had finished and looked at Brass with pure honesty and guilt in his eyes. He slowly turned around and started heading down the hallway. He was halfway to the end when Brass called out to him.

"Hey, Nicky," he said, and Nick turned around. "Are you trying to tell me that you're gonna try and get through the Sparazza'a by yourself?"

Nick shrugged slightly. "Yeah, with a little help from Warrick."

Brass smiled slightly. "You two can't do shit without me. Count me in kid."

* * *

Nick hadn't spoken to Jack since Jason had left almost three days ago. Nick hadn't really spoken to anyone much since that had happened other than to his friends, whom he had thoroughly apologized to. Nick hadn't even spoken to his father or Mike, which was definitely unheard of. They were always calling him at all hours of the day to have him set things up and make things happen. Nick guessed they understood that he was shaken up and needed some time.

Jack definitely understood that because he himself had been shaken up. He was beginning to realize just how serious this whole situation was and was worried about Nick. The very last thing he wanted to see was Nick getting hurt, or someone Nick loved getting hurt. Jack knew all too well what James was capable of and didn't want Nick founding that out first hand.

Jack had only been to Nick's house a handful of times, mainly to keep from causing any trouble. But that was before Nick's real background had come out and it didn't make a difference if Jack went to Nick's or not. So there they were, sitting on Nick's back porch, surrounded by the darkness and silence.

"They all forgave me a lot easier than I expected," Nick finally said.

Jack knew who he was talking about. "I never doubted they would. They love you Nick, and love conquers all."

"My dad and brother love me too," Nick said sadly.

Jack looked at the younger man sitting in the chair next to him. "Yes, yes they do. Do you think that that's a bad thing?"

"Well, when two totally different groups of people both love you, how do you chose?" Nick asked.

"So you've decided that you have to," Jack said. Nick frowned slightly. "Chose," Jack added.

Nick nodded. "Yeah, I can't be two different people. I don't want to be, I just want to be me."

"And who exactly are you?"

"I'm Nick," the Texan replied simply, not adding a last name.

Jack smiled. "Yes, you are. And you've always been Nick."

Nick shook his head. "No I haven't. I changed and became a Sparazza just to found out what it would have been like."

"But deep down, you were still Nick. If you hadn't been, then you would never have be able to decide to go back to being who you truly are if that person left you entirely," Jack said. "What made you go back?"

"When my dad asked me what mattered most to me."

"And what's the answer to that question?" Jack asked.

"The people I care about," Nick answered. "Warrick, Catherine, Grissom, Greg, Brass, Jason, you...the people I let down. The people I almost lost. I can't lose them, without you guys I'm nothing."

Jack sat back in his chair and looked up at the stars above them. "Ya know, when you got into this business and most of me worried sick about ya, part of me knew that you'd be okay. I guess I knew all along that you'd figure it out and find the good in this thing. You found it, so don't let it go Nicky."

* * *

Sorry I skipped parts with Grissom and the others and just mentioned them, but I did it because I don't think that on the show that they do a good enough job portraying Brass' relationship with anyone other than Grissom. So that's what I tried to do here and hope it worked out for the best.

Thanks for the reviews and hope you're enjoying.


	14. Storm in a Teacup

"You really are an amazing kid Nicky."

Nick looked up from his reflection in his coffee and his eyes met Mike's. The brothers were sitting in Nick's kitchen, and had been silent for the duration of the time Mike had been there. They had sat at the table across from each other, Mike looking at Nick and Nick looking at his coffee. But when Mike spoke, Nick looked up, no longer able to avert his eyes from his brother's gaze.

Nick shook his head slowly. "What?"

Mike took a sip of his coffee. "You came into this business and within a week, you were running the show. Setting stuff up, making things better, getting new ideas."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"It is," Mike said. "You may not think so, but it is. It proves that I was right."

"Right about what?" Nick asked.

"You," Mike said, pointing at Nick with his mug. "I knew that you could do this. You could do anything for that matter. I've never met anyone like you in my life, someone that can be so good at anything they want to."

"I'm good at being a criminal," Nick said.

"Yes, but you're even better at being a CSI. You were great at that before you were ever with us."

"That doesn't change the things that I've done," Nick said sadly.

"You didn't do them," Mike said, shaking his head.

"What are you talking about? Of course I did. You saw me do most of the illegal things I've done. I've done everything but kill a guy."

"You didn't do them," Mike repeated. "Physically, it was you doing it, but not mentally. Not emotionally. On the surface, around dad and all the other guys that work with us, you're not the same guy that sat across from me in the bar for the first time that night. You're not even close to that guy now. You put on an act and do what you gotta go, but that's not you doing those things. You're doing what you're doing for a reason."

"I don't know what that reason is," Nick said.

"Neither do I. Reasons don't matter, they're constantly changing. What matters is you're going to fix it."

Nick froze. "What do you mean?"

"Don't bullshit me Nick," Mike said. "I know you're trying to get out. I don't blame ya, I wish I could too. But take my advice, would ya? Don't be who you think you're supposed to be because that guy isn't as smart as you are. Don't be like me or like dad. Be Nick, and you'll be fine."

Nick sat completely still and listened intently to every word James Sparazza was saying. He was having trouble believing it and comprehending it at the same time. It made sense, but didn't seem worth the enormous risk. To Nick, it was like jumping off a million dollar yacht into shark infested waters wearing a seal costume just for the possibility of getting a cruise line in return. The large reward didn't seem to outweigh the even larger risk.

"This is big guys," James said. "If we get caught, it's lights out. If we don't, we'll be the richest men in the history of the world. The merchandise we're moving is top of the line; forget about the petty drugs. These are much more important to people. Our main buyers don't want anything more than this. It doesn't get better than these computer chips."

"What exactly do they do?" Mike asked.

"Everything," James answered. "They were designed by CIA agents to tap into other countries nuclear secrets and such things. But now they can be used to program anything you want to do whatever you want and grants you access to bank accounts, social security numbers, the works."

"So why are we selling them?" Tyler, one of James' men, asked.

"Because in five years, they'll be worthless when the government catches on and changes their systems and everyone else does the same. We have to get rid of them before they're useless," James replied.

Everyone else is the room began talking excitedly about the deal and how much money they were going to make. Nick sat silently and didn't participate. He sat there, watching James, trying to read between the lines, but he couldn't. He sat there for almost ten minutes before Jack stood from the table and went back upstairs, out of the basement room where the meeting was taking place.

Nick quickly stood and followed Jack upstairs and down the hallway he had went down. Jack went up another flight of stairs that took them to the attic, where he opened the window and climbed through onto the balcony. Nick followed closely behind, slipping through the window and standing with his back to the side of the house as he watched Jack from behind lean up against the railing in front of him and look out at the city lights miles away.

"This is more than a get rich quick scheme, isn't it?" Nick asked quietly.

Jack turned around. "You already know the answer to that question," he said. "I just wish you had known from the beginning so you would have stayed out of this mess."

"But I didn't," Nick said. "So tell me what's really going to happen."

Jack sighed heavily. "I don't know."

"Come on Jack."

"I don't know," Jack repeated, more firmly this time. "Do you think I'd lie to you? I wish I could help ya kid, but I can't. I don't know what he's really planning to do. But it shouldn't matter. You shouldn't even be involved."

"If you didn't want me to be like this, then why did you teach me everything you knew? Why didn't you do more to stop it?"

Jack glared at Nick. "Don't you dare try to blame this on me. I've never tried harder in my life than when I tried to keep you outta this. You didn't listen to me. I taught you what I knew so that you could use it positively, which you did for the most part."

"I knew what to do because of you. I'm so good at this because of you," Nick said.

"You're better than James is," Jack said. "And he knows it."

"Is that what this is about?" Nick asked.

"I wouldn't be surprised," Jack replied. "Only James' knows what he's thinking. The real question isn't what's gonna happen. The question is, what are you gonna do about it?"

Nick shook his head weakly. "I don't know."

"I can only help you so much kid," Jack said. "I can give you half of what you need, but the other half is all you. Put them together, and you got your answer."

"How can I put them together when I don't know what half of the answer is?" Nick asked.

"You know the answer," Jack said. "You just gotta let it come to you."

Nick threw his hands up in frustration. "This isn't exact the best fucking time to do you little teach me a lesson deal. You can't leave me alone in this."

"I'm not leaving you alone in this," Jack said as he stepped forward. He pulled a small, silver zip disk out of his jacket pocket and pushed it into Nick's hand. "Here's my half."

"What is it?"

"Everything," Jack said. "Insurance for you. I've had this for too long and hoped I would never need it, which I don't. You do. Which to me, is worse. It's paperwork and files and evidence against James Sparazza. This stuff will get him multiple life sentences, and you've got it in your hand."

Nick didn't look down at the object in his hand. He just stared at Jack and said, "And what am I supposed to do with it? Hand it over to the police and let them deal with it?"

Jack took Nick's right wrist in his hand and brought Nick's hand, which was holding the zip disk, up to his chest. Jack pressed it against Nick's heart and held it there for a second before releasing Nick's wrist.

"Put it together," Jack said. "Half and half. What you need, and what you have."

"I'm left with figuring out what I have," Nick said softly.

Jack nodded. "That's the most important part. Don't think so much. Don't think about right or wrong, illegal or legal. Fuck that shit. Do what you gotta do."

"What do I have to do?" Nick asked.

Jack smiled. He stepped forward again and pulled Nick into a tight hug. He pulled Nick to him, and said softly, "I can't help you with that, but you don't need me anymore kid. You can do this, all on your own." Jack paused for a second before kissing Nick on the side of his head, then saying, "I'm proud of you Nicky."

Then Jack was gone, back through the window and out of sight, leaving Nick on the balcony by himself. He was still holding the zip disk Jack had given him over his heart, and could feel the gentle beating against his closed fist. He stood there like that for almost an hour, not thinking of anything other than the chills that had run up his spine when Jack had said he didn't need him anymore. Something in his voice had made Nick's stomach turn. There had been something eerie in it, something ominous.

Something like a final goodbye.


	15. Dream On

Italics depict Nick's dream. Enjoy.

* * *

Nick's experiences with the Sparazza's usual customers had led him to the conclusion that Russian and German business men always seem to have somewhere else to be and don't like listening to someone younger than them. Everytime Nick had met with them, they always acted snobby and condescending. Nick never really cared though because they always gave him the money and he didn't have to try to get them to like him because first off, he didn't care, and secondly, it didn't matter. Nick had become fluent in both German and Russian and was starting to get pretty good at French and Italian as well. He took these as positive things that had come out of his new career.

Nick had just sold 100 chips to each of the business men. He had convinced them that this technology was state of the art, which it was. He explained that it had many perks, most of which their countries didn't have. With these computer chips, you could hack into any governments databases or mainframes without being notcied or traced afterwards. It allowed access to bank accounts, social security, personal information, government documents and off-shore banks that could store a fortune without anyone being able to find it. These chips were the best thing any foreign mobster or crime boss could dream up, and Nick was selling them to said mobsters and crime bosses.

But Nick didn't care if people bought them or not, which they were. But it didn't matter to him. That wasn't what was on his mind. He was focusing more on trying to figure out why James was moving these pieces. It wasn't for the money. It was never for the money when you had too much money to ever spend it all. James didn't need to build up his reputation either. He was the most respected boss in the world, and people were always glad to do business with him. Nick couldn't figure out the real reason behind this big computer chip sale, but he knew there was one. He knew that something bigger than this was going to go down, and it was only a matter of time before he figured it out.

Nick hated most of his customers as much as they hated him, but business was business and what needed to get done always did. Now that most of the deals were either set up or completed, Nick finally had some time to relax. It was his night off from CSI, so he got to just sit at home and do nothing. Well, that had been his original plan, to do nothing. But he ended up thinking about what he was going to do with what Jack had given him and how he was going to get out. He had to figure something out soon before it was too late.

Nick was sitting on his couch, trying to watch the Red Sox game when he slowly began to drift off to sleep. He tried not to, but the harder he tried, the more tired he became. He was trying to pay attention as the Sox were trying to come back from being down two runs in the bottom of the ninth inning. Nick looked at the score; the Mariner's four runs over the Sox two. He tried to concentrate, but began to reliaze his efforts were futile. He finally gave in and fell asleep sitting up.

_Nick couldn't see anything but he felt like someone was watching him. He was in a dark room and couldn't see anything around him. He wasn't sure where he was or why he was there, but that didn't matter when images started flashing across the wall in front of him like a movie screen. They were images of the things he had done since his involvement with the Sparazza's. Drugs, cars, casinos, bookies, dead bodies. Everything, replaying in front of his eyes. Then he heard a voice speak in the dark._

_"Is this the life that you lead, or the life that's led for you?"_

_Nick immediatly recognized Jack's voice and the familair saying the older man had said to him often. Nick wanted to reply, but he was unable to. He just stood there, watching the images and waited for Jack to say something else._

_"Will you take this chance that's been laid out before you?"_

_Nick saw the computer chips, then James and Mike Sparazza shaking hands with their customers. He saw money exchanging hands and a gun being loaded._

_"What are you gonna do when no one's with you in the end?"_

_Nick didn't recognize what he was seeing now. He saw bullet casings on a dark wood floor, but he didn't make a connection with them. They could have been from anywhere. He saw the bright lights of the strip and the desert sand blowing in the hot wind of the night. He tried to make sense of it, but couldn't._

_"This is mind over matter Nicky. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter."_

_Nick didn't understand what Jack meant. What didn't he mind? What doesn't matter? It wasn't making any sense to him and Nick wished he could know what was going on and what was going to happen next._

_"From the falsest smile, to the fear of death is why pain can remind us that we are in fact still alive." Jack paused before saying, "I'm gonna miss ya kid."_

Nick's eyes snapped open and he sat forward. His heart was racing against his chest and he could feel the hair standing up on the back of his neck. The dream he had just had, added to the way Jack had acted on the balcony and James' house made Nick's stomach churn. He wasn't superstitious, but he knew that his dream had some meaning. He didn't hear Jack's voice and see those things for no good reason. He needed to know the reason.

Nick got up off his couch and headed for the door without turning the TV off. He put his shoes on and grabbed his keys, completely unaware of the fact that the Sox had scored a run, but were just one out away from losing to the Mariner's.

Nick started his car and was half way down his street ten seconds later. He never drove this fast, even if he was late for work. He knew it was stupid and wreckless, but he had this overwhelming urgency to talk to Jack. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he needed to, and he didn't know why. He felt like something was wrong, other than the usual. Nick couldn't stop thinking about his dream or what Jack had given. Why did Jack have all the files and other incriminating evidence on James and not his lawyer?

Then it hit him. James Sparazza didn't have a lawyer. He didn't trust them, which is understandable given his profession. He must have let Jack have access to all the files, paperwork, whatever. Jack had everything anyone would ever need to bring down the biggest mob criminal in the history of the United States. And Jack had given it to Nick.

Nick suddenly became aware of the small device in his left front jeans pocket. It suddenly felt larger and heavier than it should have, considering he was now used to it being there. He had kept it on his person since Jack had given it to him, not risking the chance of losing it or someone finding it and knowing what it was.

A realization dawned on Nick and made his heart skip a beat.

Someone had to know it existed. Someone had to know about it and that Jack had it. Well, not anymore, but they probably still think he does. Nick knew that the only person who probably knew about it was James, and if he was in fact planning moer than meets the eye, he would need evidence against himself destroyed.

Nick sped up, flying towards Jack's house even faster. It felt like the simple ten minute drive was taking hours. Nick's mind and heart were racing, blocking everything else out. He didn't even know that the radio was on, the announcer telling an ignorant Nick that David Ortiz was up at bat with the bases loaded and two outs. The count was even at two and two, and the Mariner's pitcher was talking to the catcher, trying to figure out what to do.

Nick finally pulled into Jack's driveway and got out of the car without turning it off. He ran to the door and opened it without knocking, bursting into Jack's living room. It was darker in the house than it was outside, where it was almost pitch black. It took a minute for Nick's eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they finally did, he wished they hadn't.

Nick's eyes adjusted and landed on Jack, who was sitting completely still in the recliner in the far corner of the room. His eyes were closed and his hands were resting in his lap. Nick stood there, glued to the spot, unable to move or speak. Jack didn't either and seemed to be asleep and completely unaware of Nick's prescence.

Nick finally found his voice and called out. "Jack?" he said quietly. When he was met with no response, he said louder, "Jack? Wake up man."

Jack didn't open his eyes or even move at all. He stayed as still as humanly possible. The more Nick watched him, the more he began to realize it was more _in_humanly possible to be that still.

Nick slowly began to walk over to the Jack's corner of the room. "Jack?" he said again, louder still. Nick kept going closer, slowly at first but then picked up speed.

He was three feet away when he finally saw it.

Three bullet holes were in the center of Jack's chest. Blood had soaked through his black shirt, tinting it dark red when it caught some of the moonlight sneaking in from outside. His chest wasn't moving at all and he was completely silent, adding to the peacefullness the sight had seemed to take on.

Nick kneeled down in front of Jack and looked at him through his tear filled eyes. "Jack," he said, not asked. Nick reached up with a shaky hand and felt for a pulse, but nothing met his fingers except for cold, lifeless flesh.

Nick stood up abruptly, but didn't step back or attempt to move away. He stood there, stuck, as the tears fell from his eyes and down his cheeks. They continued on down over his jawbone and kept going, sliding down his neck and moistening the collar of his dark grey t-shirt.

Nick stood there in what seemed to him to be silence. All he could see what Jack in front of him, and all he could hear was the last words he had heard Jack say to him on the balcony. Nick didn't hear his car still running out in the driveway, or the radio announcer saying the Mariner's pitcher had returned to the mound.

Ortiz dug in, the catcher gave the signal, and there was a pitch. Ortiz hit a high fly ball to deep center field. It was going back fast, but not back or fast enough. The center fielder caught it, and the Red Sox lost in the bottom of the ninth by one run.

Nick understood how Ortiz felt.


	16. Say Anything Else

Nick sat on the curb, ignoring the people all around him. He ignored the flashing lights of the police cars and the cameras of the reporters and news crews all over. He ignored the voices and noises that everyone was making. He ignored all this and concentrated on the one thing that would not leave his mind no matter how hard he tried to make it go away.

Jack Miller was dead.

Nick couldn't quite comprehend it. The only person he had been able to trust his entire life was dead. The only person he had had contact with consistently throughout his life was gone, forever. Nick felt like someone had ripped his heart out and shot it along with Jack. He wished he hadn't been frozen to the spot as long as he had been, staring at Jack's still, lifeless form. He couldn't get that image out of his head now and wished that instead he had called the police right away and ran out of the house to where he was now. But he figured it didn't matter anyway because seeing it once was enough for it to be burned into his memory, able to come up whenever it pleased.

Tears were starting to sting Nick's eyes again when he felt someone standing behind him. He didn't turn around or look to see who it was. He really didn't have to. He knew it was going to be one of three people, and his best guess as to who it was turned out to be the right guess.

Brass walked around Nick and knelt in front of him, putting his hands firmly on the younger man's arms. Nick looked up and Brass, his tears finally spilling from his eyes slowly. Brass looked at him in the eye with a look of empathy and compassion, one that Nick rarely saw from the police captain.

"I'm sorry Nicky," Brass said genuinely. "I know this is tough for you, but I need to take your statement."

"I'm afraid you can't," a voice from off to Nick's left said.

Nick and Brass both looked at the other man standing next to them. Nick didn't recognize him, but Brass apparently did because he sighed in frustration and hung his head.

"I'm the captain," Brass said. "That means I can do whatever the hell I want Resscol."

Resscol shook his head and extended his arm, handing Brass a signed piece of paper. "Special orders from the DA and FBI director. I've been handling the majority of the Sparazza case, and my superiors wants me on this. You have conflict of interest with Mr. Sparazza here, anyway." Brass frowned, so Resscol added, "I know that Nick here is Jimmy Sparazza's son, everyone knows that."

"And everyone knows that Sparazza killed your partner and you're looking for some revenge, probably on Nick. You can't set out on a vendetta mission Resscol," Brass said.

"What does this have to do with me anyway?" Nick asked.

Resscol scoffed. "Not only was my partner killed by your scumbag father, but then his right hand man is killed, only to be found by his son, now second in command? Come on Nick, you're the number one suspect right now."

"I didn't kill him," Nick said defensively.

"We'll handle this at the station," Resscol said. "Right now, CSI Sanders is going to test you for GSR."

Nick and Brass both stood slowly as Greg walked over tentatively. He looked scared and nervous and like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world than where he was right now. He kept his eyes on the ground and stood next to Resscol, who had a satisfied look on his face.

"Why are you making Greg do this?" Brass asked.

"Because he's not Brown, who's Sparazza's best friend," Resscol answered.

"My last name is Stokes," Nick corrected. "Sparazza refers to either Mike or James."

Resscol rolled his eyes. "Either way, Greg is the most impartial, even though he works with you."

"I'm still good friends with him," Greg chimed in, looking up at Resscol. "I don't want to find him guilty of something."

"That's why I'm here," Resscol said. "To make sure that if you do find something, you'll report it as it is and not try to get Nick out of anything. Now test for GSR so I can take him back to the station to question him."

Greg reluctantly took Nick's right hand in his and dabbed it with the pad. He repeated this with the other hand before holding them out in front of him and adding a few drops of the solution to the pads, turning them a dark purple. Greg, Brass and Nick stared at the purple pads in Greg's hands, telling them that Nick tested positive for gun shot residue.

Nick opened his mouth to say something, but Resscol cut him off. "You can try and explain at the station," he said menicingly.

Nick hung his head as Brass lead him to his police cruiser nearby, putting him in and then driving away quickly before anyone else at the scene noticed. Nick stared down at his hands resting in his lap the entire ride, not cating as much as he should have that he was the prime suspect in a murder - again. He couldn't think about that. All he could think about was who could have killed Jack. The same person kept flashing through his mind, and everytime it did he got more and more scared.

Nick knew all too well what Resscol was trying to do. He was trying to ice him, make him freak out and be on edge. Nick had been sitting by himself in the interrogation room for close to thee hours. He knew what was going on, he did this kind of thing all the time. They were building their case against him. They were getting his fingerprints, DNA, and whatever else they could find from Jack's house. He knew they were finding what could be incriminating evidence against him, and he couldn't bring himself to care about that right now.

Nick knew that the reason Jack was dead was the flash drive in his pocket. He knew that the information that that drive contained was enough to put James and everyone who had ever worked with him away for several life sentences. He knew that, and he knew that someone else knew that. Someone else found out that Jack had had this information and went after him for it. Nick knew it was only a matter of time before someone found out that he had it and they came after him.

Deep down, Nick knew who had killed Jack. One person stood out, but Nick tried not to believe it. It made him sick to his stomach, but at the same time made the most sense and he knew it. Nick knew that the odds were in favor of Jack's killer being James Sparazza. He was the closest to Jack after Nick and Mike and he would have been able to figure out if Jack had had anything on him. He would have tried to take care of it himself and not tell anyone else for fear that they might try to use the information themselves to get themselves out of jail time.

Nick knew that James had killed Jack. He was sure of it. But how was he going to prove it?

The Texan forced himself to focus on the task at hand when Resscol came into the room, carrying with him a folder stuffed with papers. Nick of course knew what they were, and sat back, getting ready for what he knew was coming.

Resscol laid all the papers out in front of Nick before sitting down across from him. "I know I don't have to explain to you what these mean," he said. "You're a good CSI, you know what this means."

Nick nodded. "It means you think I killed Jack."

"You're still trying to tell me you didn't?" Resscol asked.

"I'd be lying if I tried to tell you anything different," Nick answered.

"You realize that this is not a joke, correct?" Resscol said. "You're about to be charged with the murder of a mobster that works for your father. Do you understand how serious this is?"

"I fully understand," Nick replied. "The only person I've been able to trust for my entire life is dead, and you think I'm responsible. In all honesty and with due respect, I don't think you understand."

"Oh I understand," Resscol said. "I understand that we found GSR on your hands. I understand that we found your fingerprints at Jack's house and on his body. I understand the we found your gun at the scene, with your prints on it, and that the bullets taken from Jack's body came from the gun that you fired."

"You're wrong," Nick said simply.

"Well, unfortunately for you, the DA agrees with me and not you. Given your past and repuatation, this isn't looking too good for you Nick."

Nick shook his head slowly. "You're still wrong."

Resscol stood abruptly, but was inturrpted from whatever he was about to do or say by the door opening and Brass coming in. Resscol froze and glared at Brass, who had to try very hard not to roll his eyes.

"While you're on the phone getting your arrest warrant, I'd like to speak with Nick, and so would his colleagues," Brass said.

"I don't think that that's a very go-" Resscol started, but Brass cut him off.

"I don't give a damn what you think. I'm a police officer, he can remain in my custody while you secure your warrant," Brass said as he walked over to Nick and took his arm. "We'll be in the break room if you need us."

Brass lead Nick out of the interrogation room and into the break room, where Grissom, Catherine, Warrick and Greg were awaiting them. They all stood when Nick and Brass entered, but none of them said anything. Catherine had tears in her eyes, Greg was staring at the floor and Grissom and Warrick were staring at Nick.

"I didn't do it guys," Nick said.

Warrick nodded. "We know."

"But it doesn't matter," Grissom said.

"He's right," Brass said before anyone could argue. He turned to Nick. "So give me something. Give me an alibi that'll take a couple hours to disprove. Lie to me, I don't care. Buy yourself some time."

Nick knew he couldn't give them the zip disk without James finding out he had had it. If he did that, he was dead. If he told them, he was dead. He couldn't think of anything else to do. He had to go through with this, he couldn't try to give up now. He wasn't going to lay down and die. He had to do what most people wouldn't consider to be the right thing."

Brass looked over Nick's shoulder and saw Resscol heading towards them, warrant in hand and a small smile on his face. He knew it was going to be that quick, so he tried one last time to help Nick.

"Come on," Brass almost begged. "Give me something kid."

Resscol had just entered the break room and came to a stop next to Brass. Brass didn't look at him though, and neither did Nick. All Nick did was extend his arms, wrists together, his hands closed into fists knuckles up. Resscol reached for his handcuffs, but Brass grabbed his arm.

"It's not your job to arrest him," he said.

"I think it is," Resscol argued.

"You're not arresting him," Brass said. "I'll take care of it."

Resscol nodded slightly and left the room, waiting for them outside. Brass turned to Nick and stared at him again, but all the other man did was raise his wrists to Brass. Brass clenched his jaw as he took out his cuffs, then slipped the cold metal over Nick's warm wrists. Without looking at anyone else in the room, they silently left and walked towards Resscol, who couldn't have looked happier.

"We're keeping him in a holding cell, by himself," Brass said. "Maybe someone will post his bail."

"It's a million dollars," Resscol said. "I doubt it."

"It's happened before," Brass said, and Nick knew what he was doing.

"It doesn't matter," Resscol said. "He's still being dismissed as CSI."

"Thanks," Brass said sarcastically. "We know that. Now if you don't mind, I've got it from here."

Brass lead Nick down the hallways and to the holding cells, which were all vacant. He brought him to the secluded one in the back, where he took off the handcuffs and gently pushed Nick inside. The other officer there locked the cell door, leaving Brass on the other side.

"I know what I'm doing," Nick said.

"I know that you've got this all planned out," Brass said sadly. "But planning big can be a gamble."

Nick smiled and tilted his head slightly to the side as he always does. "I've already rolled the dice."

* * *

I posted this chapter at a bad time; shortly after the season finale in which a similar thing happens to Warrick. I didn't intend this or 'copy' that, I had already written this and couldn't get it posted till today. At any rate, I hope you're enjoying this story. I'll have the next chapter up shortly.


	17. Crazy Is As Crazy Does

Italics indicate Nick's dream.

* * *

Nick had no way of knowing how long he had been sitting on the uncomfortable cot for. The guards had changed shifts several times, but he had never felt inclined to count and try to figure out how long he had been there for. He could have easily asked, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He didn't want to find out that it was shoter than it felt or a lot longer than he had expected. So he just sat there, his head in his hands, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do.

He knew that the whole computer chip thing was a cover for something bigger that James was planning, Nick just didn't know what yet. Despite the help Brass and Warrick had offered to him, Nick knew he was on his own. He didn't want to get them involved any further for fear that they would end up getting killed or worse for associating themselves with him. He didn't want them getting hurt. He wasn't as concerned with his own safety as long as he brought Jack's murderer to justice and got James what he deserved. He knew the information he had was more valuable than anything, and he had to find a way to give it to Brass without actually giving it to him.

Nick had to be discrete. No one could know he had the disk or that he even knew it existed. He also had to pretend that he didn't know that James had killed Jack. He had to act like he wasn't suspicious and had to go along with the computer chip deal. He had become very good at lying, so hopefully that would come in handy. He had to find a way to get Brass the necessary information at the best possible time, where James couldn't see him doing it or find out that he had done it. He had to make sure that that would be it and that he would be done for good so that his chances of coming out of this alive would be greater.

Nick lifted his head when he heard someone stop in front of his cell. He didn't need to look up to know who it was. He had been expecting this since he had been put in there, and knew it was only a matter of time before he had come to see him. He looked up and smiled slightly as he stood and walked over to the barred door separating him from the other man.

"Hey Nick," Warrick said, quieter than he normally spoke.

"Hey Warrick," Nick replied, his smile still on his face. He wrapped his hands around the bars in front of him and sighed slightly. "What's up?"

Warrick shrugged slightly. "Nothing, just coming to check on you. How ya holdin' up?" Nick opened his mouth to respond, then stopped and shook his head slowly. "What?" Warrick asked in mild confusion.

"I almost forgot that you weren't expecting an easy answer," Nick said.

Warrick nodded slightly. "Yeah. I always thought that this would be the other way around, us on opposite sides of the bars, but me in the small room." Warrick paused then said, "Is it too small?"

Nick knew he was referring to his claustraphobia, and had expected as much. "No," he answered honestly. "It hasn't really sank in that I'm in here yet. I've been thinking about Jack too much."

"I'm sorry," Warrick said, meaning not just about Jack but about everything.

Nick shrugged. "It's not your fault."

"It's not yours either," Warrick said. "You can't add this to the load that's already on your shoulders. No one ever tells you that a burden like this takes forever to get rid of."

"No one ever tells you that forever feels like home," Nick said softly. "That's where most of my hope is coming from, knowing that it may take forever to get rid of this, but that means I have forever to get it done."

Warrick nodded slightly and looked down at the file in his hands. Nick looked down too, noticing it for the first time. He didn't have to ask what the file was. He knew that it was his file, probably including all the allegations and suspicions about the other criminal activities he's been involved with.

"How much is real?" Warrick asked, still looking at the folder.

"There's so much to question," Nick replied. Warrick looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Before you tell yourself it's just a different scene, remember it's just different from what you've seen."

Warrick smiled slightly. "Jack teach you that?"

Nick nodded with a smile. "Yeah, he did."

"What else did he teach you?" Warrick asked, trying to help Nick figure out what he was going to do by making him remember important things from Jack.

"I don't even know where to start," Nick said, knowing what Warrick was trying to get him to do. "I can't think straight, there's too much rattling around up here," he said as he ran his hands through his dark hair. "He had so many quotes and sayings...he was worse then Grissom man, I swear."

Warrick smiled slightly. "That can be a good thing if you use it right."

Nick nodded. "Yeah, I just hope I can."

The two friends were silent for some time. They just stood there, facing one another, but looking anywhere but at each other. Warrick was tightly gripping the folder in his hands and Nick had a firm grasp on the bars. The cold metal was now warm from his hands, so he slid them down to a colder spot that was somehow refreshing to him.

Warrick looked up, and Nick did as well. They locked eyes as Warrick asked, "So I take it you can't tell me what you want to tell me, huh?"

Nick nodded. "Bingo."

"Thought so," Warrick said. "It's a simple question man, you're either with me or not at all."

Nick knew where Warrick was coming from, and didn't blame him for asking. After looking at the file, it was a little fuzzy as to which side Nick was on. But Nick didn't see sides anymore. It wasn't good guys versus bad guys, not to him anyway. Because if it was that way, he wouldn't be either. He's a good guy doing bad things to make the bag guys lose. So he didn't think of this as having sides, but more of it was him against something he knew was wrong, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make it right.

Nick didn't answer Warrick's question directly. "While you're out there, looking in, describing what you see," Nick said, motioning with his head to the outside of the holding cells where he knew Brass, Grissom and probably Catherine were waiting for Warrick, "remember what you're staring at is _me_."

* * *

Nick had laid down on the stiff mattress for the first time since his stay had begun shortly after Warrick had left. He stretched out and tried to get comfortable, but soon realized that that was going to be impossible. He closed his eyes and rested his hands on his stomach, feeling the muscles of his abs contract and expand with each of his slow, steady breaths. He was actually quite surprised and content with how he was handling being in such a small room. Something like this would both him under normal circumstances, but nothing having anything to do with him could be considered normal anymore.

Nick felt his breathing getting deeper and slower as he slowly drifted off to sleep. He felt himself slipping into something of a relaxed state, and was glad he was finally going to get some rest. That's what he was hoping, anyway.

_Jack was the exact opposite of the last time Nick had seen him. His eyes were the sparkling green they had always been, his skin the correct color. He was standing up, and he was smiling. Nick felt like he was in a drug enduced haze, which he ventured might not actually be too far from the truth._

_"What's going on Jack?" Nick asked, not understanding why it didn't seem like they were anywhere that actually existed._

_"That's still up to you," Jack said. "Have you decided yet?"_

_Nick felt frustration take over his body. "Don't do this. I need your help. I know what to do, I just don't know how to do it. You can't just stand back and watch me screw this up."_

_"I'm not gonna watch you screw it up because you can't screw it up," Jack said._

_Nick felt like yelling, but thought better of it. "Yes I can. I'm going crazy. I'm having these dreams that feel so real, but can't be because you're dead. You're dead, you left me here by myself. I'm going crazy and have no one to tell me that I am."_

_"You're not going crazy Nicky," Jack said. "These are all pre-conceived thoughts that have been built up and processed in your mind and the only way you can make sense of them is when you're asleep and relaxed. Come on, you know this. You took psych for two years in high school."_

_"Why do you do this?" Nick asked. "Why do you give me these riddles and sayings and let me hang from them like they're my lifeline?"_

_"Because they are," Jack replied, "and it's the only way to get through to you. You're the smartest guy I've ever known, and the only way to get you to be that guy is to make you. I'vee given you everything you need, you just need to find it and use it."_

_"How am I supposed to find it?" Nick asked._

_"Think," Jack said simply._

_"What the fuck do you think I've been doing for the past days or weeks? I don't even know how long it's been. How am I supposed to find something if I don't know what it is?"_

_"So what are you gonna do?" Jack challenged. "Give up? Let everything that you've done and thought and felt become what you've been trying to keep it from? You're gonna stand there and tell me that this is all going to be for nothing?"_

_"No," Nick said weakly. "That's not what I mean."_

_"You just need to let this happen in whatever way it may. The quicker that things unfold, the quicker that they subside. You had the writing on the wall."_

_"But now the walls have all come down," Nick said._

_Jack smiled. "Exactly." He paused and looked at Nick before saying, "Wanna know why the call it 'The American Dream'?" Nick didn't respond, so he continued. "Because you have to be asleep to believe it."_

_Nick was trying to figure this out before he woke up. "What does this have to do with The American Dream?"_

_"This is your American Dream," Jack said. "You've been after it your whole life, and to get it, all you have to do is think and let go."_

_"Let what go?" Nick asked._

_Jack smiled as he began to fade away. "Just let go."_

Nick woke up with a start, similiar to the fashion he had woken up in the first time he had had a dream like the previous one. He knew this was all psychological, but that still didn't make it feel any less real. He didn't get how he could hold these conversations with Jack in his head that were so life-like and could actually have happened, if given the chance. Jack had always had little sayings and anecdotes that he would tell Nick to get him to think, and it always worked out in the end. it wasn't working out now, so Nick guessed it wasn't the end.

Nick just wished Jack hadn't said - or he hadn't dreamed that Jack had said - to just let go. Nick didn't know what he was supposed to let go of, but he did know that that was one of his biggest problems. He had trouble letting go of things, especially things that meant a lot and were close to him. If he was supposed to let go of it, Nick wasn't sure if he would be able to.

He sighed and sat up slowly. He was trying to slowly mull over all the things Jack had ever told him, whether it was in real life or in one of his dreams. None of it made sense out of context.

Nick ran his hands over his face and through his hair. "Well," he said out loud to himself, "I guess I'm gonna have to put it into context."


	18. Pieces

Nick was trying very hard not to fall asleep again. The last thing he wanted right now was to sleep and have another dream about Jack. He wouldn't be able to help it if he fell asleep, but thought he could stop himself from sleeping. The dreams were supposed to help him, but they were only making him frustrated and scared. It freaked him out that he could see and talk to Jack in a way that seemed so real, but he knew both in his dreams and in reality that it wasn't real. It was his mind trying to make sense of everything in his head at the time. When he was asleep, he was totally relaxed and his mind could show him the things he needed to see. The easiest way for him to understand it was for Jack to say it to him, so that's what was hapenning. The biggest problem was that Jack was acting in Nick's dreams as he would in real life, where he wouldn't come right out and say what Nick wanted to hear. He made him think about it and wouldn't just tell him the answer. Jack had been doing that for as long as Nick could remember, and probably wouldn't stop anytime soon.

Nick wasn't sure how long it had been since he had talked to Warrick. He didn't know how long after that he had fallen sleep. He didn't know how long he had been asleep for, or how long it had been since he had woken up from his latest dream. He didn't know anything for sure except that he was exhausted and was suspected of killing Jack Miller, which of course was not true. Nick didn't even care about proving that he didn't do it at the moment. He didn't care how long it took, but he was going to make all of this right. He knew what he had to do, he just didn't know how to do it yet.

The Texan sighed heavily and reluctantly laid back down on the uncomfortable mattress. He tried to keep his eyes open, but he just couldn't. He allowed them to slowly close and began to lose control of his body slipping into sleep. He didn't want to, but at this point he knew that he was going to have to a do a lot of things he wasn't going to want to do.

_Nick didn't know why this time was any different than the others, but it was. As soon as he saw Jack sitting in the recliner in the corner of his living room, the younger man swore he could feel his heart breaking. He had never thought about it in the way he was now, and suddenly Jack's death seemed like it was all his fault. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but to Nick, it felt like it._

_Jack was smiling at him, but Nick couldn't return the gesture. He stood in front of him, just like he had that night he had found him, glued to the spot, unable to move or speak. He stood there for a long time, or so it seemed, before he finally found his voice._

_"I'm sorry," Nick said the words he knew he should have said when Jack was still alive._

_"For what?" Jack asked._

_"Everything," Nick replied. "Getting involved, making everything worse...getting you killed."_

_"This wasn't your fault," Jack said, "and I know you know that. It was bound to happen to me sooner or later. James needed me out of the way, I was of no more use to him and he knew it. I wouldn't give him what he wanted."_

_"The disk," Nick thought out loud._

_Jack nodded. "He doesn't know you have it either. I wouldn't tell him where it is."_

_"That's why he killed you," Nick said, and Jack just kept smiling. "So how is it not my fault?"_

_"Everyone has the exact life that they want," Jack said, not answering Nick's question. "I wanted to be a powerful man, and I was. I wanted to get out, so I did, to a point anyway. I was still involved, but not as much as I had been."_

_"How is it not my fault?" Nick asked again, tears forming in his eyes and a lump blocking his throat._

_"James wanted to be better than me, so he was. Mikey wanted to be like him, so he was too. I wanted to keep you out of it, so I did. You wanted to get in and free yourself of the guilt your family put upon you, so you did. And I let you."_

_"How is it not my fault?" Nick wanted to yell, but it came out barely above a whisper._

_"I knew you felt guilty for everything," Jack said, ignoring Nick's constant question. "And I wanted you to be able to get rid of that guilt, but I never wanted you to be in any danger. All I wanted was for you to be happy and not blame yourself for anything. I wanted to save you from yourself."_

_Nick was beginning to think Jack couldn't hear him, or just didn't want to. "How is it not my fault?" Nick asked again, needing an answer_ _before he convinced himself it really was his fault._

_"Are you looking for someone else to blame?" Jack asked, his first acknowledgement of Nick's question. "Did you blame me all along?"_

_Nick shook his head. "For what?"_

_"I've never seen you this scared before," Jack said._

_Nick wished Jack would just answer one of his questions. "I'm terrified."_

_"You're scared you're the only one that can fix this," Jack said. Nick knew he was right, so he didn't say anything. "You are the ony one that can fix this. There. Now there's nothing to be scared of. The hardest part of this isn't finding who you need to be, it's being who you are. So stay who you are."_

_"Why don't you ever run out of things to say?"_

_"There's nothing that I couldn't say. I've said it all before, and you've heard it all before," Jack said as he sat forward. Nick felt the tears fall from his eyes as Jack put his hands on his shoulders. "Don't give in. You can't give up. If you stop gambling, you'll never have to lose. But if you don't play, you can never win Nicky."_

Nick eyes snapped open. He tried to take a deep breath, but the lump in his throat prevented him from doing so. He sat up slowly and ran his hands over his face. Upon doing so, his palms were met with the feeling of the warm tears on his cheeks. He slowly brushed them away, surprised that they were actually there. Everything about his dream had been so real, and he had even cried.

He sighed heavily and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was thinking about maybe standing up and stretching, but decided against it. He just sat there for a minute, but before he could even start to get his thoughts together, he heard keys jingling.

Nick looked to his right and saw the guard that was on duty at the moment looking for the right key to open his cell door with. Standing next to him was James Sparazza, a look of mixed emotions on his face. Nick stood without thinking and walked through the open door when the guard motioned for him to do so.

"You've been bailed out," the guard said. "You're free to go until the DA refiles and sets you with no bail. I wouldn't go too far if I were you."

Nick nodded weakly as the guard walked away. James looked at Nick with a small smile starting to spread across his lips. Nick stood there as still as possible and tried not to picture the man standing in front of him shooting Jack. As hard as he tried though, Nick couldn't keep the image out of his mind. He pretended it wasn't there and offered a small smile back in return, which luckily fooled James.

"They treat you okay?" James asked as him and Nick started walking out of the holding cells and down the halls of the LVPD.

"Better than they would have treated the President," Nick said. "Why did you bail me out?" he couldn't help but ask.

James was surprised at that question. "Did you think I was going to let my innocent son stay in jail until they realized they made a mistake?"

In saying that, Nick got the confirmation he needed that James knew who killed Jack, or did it himself. It was most likely the latter of the two.

"How do you know I'm innocent?" Nick asked, unable to stop himself from calling James out on his mistake.

James was quick to reply, however. "Of course you are. You're not the kind of guy that would kill people Nick, especially Jack. I know you better than that."

_No you don't,_ Nick thought and wanted to say, but thought better of it. Instead, he shut his mouth for once and walked with James out of the police station. Everyone they walked by was staring at them, but James paid them no mind. Nick did though. He looked back at all of them, half of whom he didn't even know. The ones he did know though were shaking their heads slightly at him, obviously in disappointed.

But Nick didn't care what they thought. He'd been an alleged murderer before, and that eventually subsided. Even though this time was worse and he had more against him than being a killer, he didn't care. He knew he didn't do it and his team was going to prove it. He had more important stuff to worry about, like not getting himself killed by the man walking next to him.

As they were nearing the exit, Nick turned his head and saw his team standing in Brass' office, all of them deep in discussion. He knew they were talking about him; everyone was talking about him. But Nick knew his team was trying to help him in anyway they could, which unfortunately wasn't much.

Brass saw Nick first and stopped whatever he was saying and looked at the younger man. Everyone else in the office followed suit; Grissom, Warrick, Catherine, and Greg all stopped whatever they were doing or saying and looked through the glass at their colleague and friend. They all looked worried and scared, and Nick was willing to bet that he looked scared too. Everyone except Brass seemed surprised that Nick was walking out right now with James, but they were almost glad at the same time. They were nervous that he was going to be with James, but glad he was out of jail. For the time being.

They all looked at Nick, unsure of what to do. They were scared, and he was scared too. But despite that fear, Nick had a feeling that everything was going to work out. As he began to turn the corner to leave, he craned his neck and looked over his shoulder at his friends for as long as he could. He smiled, a true smile, and they all knew it and saw it. Small smiles began to spread to their faces as Nick moved out of sight, and they began to think that everything would turn out okay.

* * *

Nick sat at the same table he had sat at that night Jack had given him the zip disk, which was still in his jean's pocket. He ignored the urge to reach in and grab it though, for fear that someone would become suspicious and find out that he had it. That would put an end to his plan of fixing everything really quick.

James was upstairs, assuring clients that everything was okay and business would go on as usual. They were all a little skeptical about Nick know because he was supposedly a murderer. Nick had already done his job though, so they wouldn't be dealing with him anymore anyway. The computer chips didn't matter to Nick anymore. He knew they were a cover for something bigger, and he was going to find out what that something was.

Mike was sitting across from his younger brother, but neither one of them were speaking or looking at one another. Mike didn't know what to say, and Nick didn't want to say anything at first. But the longer they sat there, the bigger the urge to fill the silence became until Nick just had to say something.

"I didn't kill Jack," Nick said quietly.

Mike nodded. "I know."

Nick frowned slightly. "You do?"

Mike nodded again. "It makes no sense, you killing him. You want out, and he wanted you out. Besides, I can't see you killing anyone."

"That's what he said," Nick said, motioning to the floor above them where James was with his head. "I just went to his house and he was...dead."

"I'm sorry you had to be the one to find him Nicky," Mike said.

"Did you know it was gonna happen?" Nick asked.

"No," Mike answered honestly. "I would have told you and tried to stop it. I don't know why it happened. Nothing's making sense anymore. Dad's using his new guys he hasn't used much more now and the usuals are getting suspicious."

"Of what?" Nick asked.

"I'm not sure. Dad's just been acting weird. He's been really quiet, and when he does talk it's always about you and how good you are at this and how you've been running everything lately."

At that moment, Nick felt everything fall into place. He knew what James was planning to do. The computer chips and everything leading up to them were all a set-up. None of it had been real. Nick was putting it all together in his head, but before he could make it all make sense, he heard footsteps running down the stairs to where him and Mike were.

Nick was going to have to put it together later.


	19. Promise

To say that Johnny and Bobby were two of Nick's least favorite people in the world would be an understatement. He damn near loathed those two, and for good reason. They were the guys just under him and Mike in the Sparazza power chain. They did all the dirty work; anything that involved killing, intimidating or collecting money. James was now virtually hands off of every operation. Nick set everything up and told Mike what to do. Mike relayed the information to the necessary people, and usually went with Bobby and Johnny to wherever they neded to go to make sure the job got done. They hated Nick and Nick hated them, but what needed to get done always did despite the fact that they wouldn't mind not seeing each other ever again if it was possible. Mike didn't care for them either, but he made it less obvious than Nick did.

They came running down the stairs, definitely over excited and eager to do whatever it is they had been sent to do.

"Nick, you have to go home," Bobby said, sounding like a soccer mom telling her kid's friend their parents were there to pick them up.

"Excuse me?" Mike said. "Since when do you give him orders?"

"Since Jimmy said so for us to say so," Johnny said.

"That's great grammar right there," Nick said sarcastically.

"Sorry we don't have fancy degrees like you do," Bobby retorted. "But Jimmy says you gotta go home and get some rest. We got everything covered here, we don't need you till later."

"What's later?" Nick asked.

"You'll find out later," Bobby said. "We gotta take Mike with us. You'll know when we need you, we'll come get you. But for now, you gotta get outta here, okay?"

Nick stood with a sigh. "Fine, I'll leave right now. Go back upstairs and tell Jimmy I need to speak with him before I leave."

Bobby and Johnny reluctantly went back upstairs to report back to Jimmy and wait for Nick and Mike to follow them so they could do whatever they had to do. Nick sat back down as soon as the door at the top of the stairs closed. Mike was looking down at the table and had been silent since he had first spoken to Bobby. He looked a little pale and nervous, and Nick didn't know why the sudden change had come over his brother.

"Hey," he said, making Mike look up at him. "What's wrong?"

Mike shook his head. "Nothing, I'm just tired. You look it to. You should really go home and get some rest kid."

Nick nodded slightly. "Yeah, I will. Are you sure you're okay?"

Mike smiled slightly. "I'm a lot better than I've been in a while. You're gonna make everything okay, you're the only one with enough balls to do it."

"What's wrong?" Nick asked again, not believing that everything was okay. "If something's gonna happen, tell me Mike."

Mike just kept smiling. "Everything's gonna be fine."

"I'm not gonna rat you out to the cops or anything," Nick said. "You're my brother, I would never do that to you."

Mike stood, and so did Nick. Mike sighed contently before he spoke. "I know. Stop worrying about me. Just do me a favor, would ya Nicky?"

Nick nodded. "Sure, anything."

"Do as I say, and not as I do. When you get everything you need, use it for all that it's worth. Don't be scared of anything, because everything still turns to gold. And if you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last. When all are one and one is all, to be a rock and not to roll."

Nick frowned slightly. "What, is that another one of Jack's sayings he told you to tell me?"

Mike nodded. "Kinda, yeah it is. Just remember that for me kid."

Nick walked with Mike upstairs, where they parted ways. Mike said something about seeing Nick later, but he had just nodded weakly in response. He was thinking about what Mike had said about getting everything he needed. It was almost as if he knew that Nick had all the files and information that could incriminate everyone that had ever worked with or for the family. But he hadn't cared. He told Nick to use it, then said something that didn't make any sense, but that Nick wouldn't forget.

After speaking briefly with James about what he was supposed to do, which was just go home and sleep, Nick left the Sparazza house, for what he hoped would be the last time, and went home.

* * *

Nick didn't think that it was fair that when he actually wanted to sleep, he couldn't. He was exhausted and wanted to stop thinking about everything. He had figured out what was going on, but didn't want to think about it. He couldn't do anything about it, not yet anyway. He needed Mike's help so that Mike wouldn't be pulled down with everyone else. Nick wanted to tell Brass and Grissom, but couldn't. Not yet, not until he could prove it.

Nick knew that the day he gave the zip disk to Brass, James would know and would come after him. He hadn't hesitated in killing Jack, and Nick knew he wouldn't hesitate in killing him as well. It was only a matter of time before he found out that Nick had it, and Nick was running out of that time.

Nick was sitting on his couch, the TV off in front of him. He was trying to put together what to do, but he couldn't. So instead, he decided to lay out everything he knew and go from there.

The computer chips were a set-up, as were the last however many months Nick had been working for the Sparazza's. It was all a set-up for James to pass the whole deal off onto Nick. If James made it look like Nick was in charge now, he could trade Nick and everyone else for his own freedom. He was setting up the computer chip deal for every one of his clients to get caught, and since Nick had done the deals and finalized, he'd be the one going down for it.

Nick had never expected this to come out of everything. He had never thought that his father was going to try and pin a lifetime of crime onto his shoulders after only a few months. Nick knew it was coming, he just had to prove it before it happened.

The Texan was brought out of his thoughts by the shrill sound of the ringing of his cell phone. He jumped slightly, then sighed as he reached over and picked up his cell from the end table to his right. He looked at the display, not in the least bit surprised at who it was.

"Hello?" He answered like he would any other call.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Brass," Nick answered. "He hasn't tried to hurt me yet."

Brass paused before saying, "You think he's going to?"

Nick sighed again. "I'm not sure. I think so."

"Okay, don't tell me anything then. Don't say anything until you're sure. I'm not even supposed to be talking to you right now. I just wanted to make sure you were still alive."

Nick smiled slightly. "Thanks."

"Everyone's freaking out," Brass said. "They all think that something huge is about to go down because you're involved with the Sparazza's now."

"This whole thing has been building since I have been breathing," Nick said. "It's just starting to become obvious is all." They were quiet for a minute before Nick said, "You know I'm not one of them anymore, right?"

Brass didn't pause. "I know that, Grissom knows that, and your team knows that. But no one else does. It just doesn't look good, ya know?"

Nick nodded even though Brass couldn't see him. "Yeah, I know. I fucked up, and now look where it got me. Jack's dead, and I have to prove something that hasn't even happened yet."

"Well, if anyone can do it, you can," Brass said confidently. "But I have to be honest with you. If I have to arrest you again, I'm going to. I have to do my job Nick, no matter what."

"I know," Nick said. "I understand that. Just know that whatever I do, I had to, okay?"

"I understand," Brass said, echoing Nick's words. "I just needed you to know that I'm not after you, my badge is."

"As long as you know that I'm not doing it, my mind is, we'll be all set," Nick said.

Brass laughed lightly. "I think we have a deal there kiddo."

Nick smiled. "I believe we do."

"Alright," Brass said after a brief pause. "I gotta go before someone finds out I'm talking to you. We'd both be screwed."

"Yeah, I'd be dead before I even got to try anything," Nick replied.

"Don't do anything stupid unless you have to," Brass said. "I'll see ya later."

"I'll see ya when I see ya," Nick said as he hung up the phone, tossing it onto the couch beside him.

Nick turned his attention back to the TV set that wasn't on. He ran his hand through his hair several times, and in doing so thought of someone he should have been thinking of a lot lately, but he had had a lot on his mind and hadn't gotten around to tying up those loose ends that were flailing in his mind, even though he ignored them.

Nick picked up his phone and dialed the second number on speed dial, waiting patiently as the phone rang.

"Hello?"

The familiar Texan drawl mixed with the sound of sleep met Nick's ear on the other line. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was almost midnight in Vegas, which meant it was nearing one in the morning in Texas. Nick pushed that thought to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

"Hi Jason," he said softly.

"Nicky?" The other voice, now wide awake, asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Nick replied simply.

"Are you okay?" Jason asked.

"Yeah yeah, I'm fine," Nick answered. "I just...I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For what happened before," Nick said. "I had no idea they were gonna do that, I swear. I wouldn't have let you stay at my house for so long if I had known they had wanted me to hurt you."

"I know," Jason said. "It's okay."

"No it's not," Nick said, shaking his head. "I just let you leave without saying anything to you, and haven't talked to you since. I was just scared out of mind and had a lot going on."

"Like getting arrested?" Jason asked coldly.

Nick swore under his breath. "How'd you know?"

"Warrick called me," Jason said. Nick was about to curse his friend when he added, "he was worried about you, and thought I should know. I didn't know what to do though. Don't worry, I didn't tell anyone else. I was leaving that up to you."

"I've got a lot up to me," Nick said. "I didn't kill him Jason."

"I know," the other said honestly. "So prove it."

Nick smiled slightly. "I'm working on it."

"Good," Jason said. "While you're doing that, stay outta trouble, would ya?"

"I can't promise that."

"Promise me that you'll still be around in a few days. Promise me that I won't get a call from Warrick or someone else telling me that I have to go to Vegas for your funeral," Jason said.

"I can't promise that," Nick said sadly.

"Well I'm not hanging up until you do," Jason stated plainly. "You're capable of doing whatever it is you gotta do without getting yourself killed in the process."

Nick sighed heavily. "Okay, I promise."

"Promise?"

"I said I promise."

"Do you promise Nicky?"

Nick sighed again. "Yes, I said I promise."

"Now that's three times that you promised," Jason said. "You can't do something you promised three times you wouldn't, especially if it means breaking it to your big brother."

Nick smiled slightly. "I won't let you down."

Jason smiled as well, even though neither man knew the other was smiling. "You never have Nicky."


	20. Learning to Fall

With all of his bad experiences throughout his life, Nick had come to learn that it's hard to remember what happened perfectly. He couldn't tell you what he had been doing other than processing a scene when Walter Gordon had kidnapped him. He couldn't remember what Mrs. Hendler had said to him when she had had the gun on him. He couldn't remember what him and Nigel Crane had talked about when he had installed his cable or when he had tried to kill himself in Nick's house. All Nick could remember was the fear that he had felt and the tightness of his chest as he went through whatever it was, depending on which time it was. He remembered every little detail about the events when they had actually happened, but not so much the events prior to or after the fact.

Nick wanted this time to be different. He wanted to remember everything so that he could know what had happened for sure. He was trying to concentrate and store away everything that was happening. He was thinking about the conversations with Brass and Jason that he had had about an hour ago. He wanted to be able to remember what they had said to him after whatever was going to do down eventually did. But all this thinking and concentrating was only making Nick more tired, and he finally gave in to the fact that he needed to rest.

He went into his bedroom and crawled right into his bed, not changing his clothes. He was still wearing the same jeans and t-shirt that he had had on when Jack had given him the zip disk. He hadn't changed because he didn't want to risk losing or forgetting the drive, so he just kept it on him at all times. Besides, he was too tired to expend any more energy. He sank into the matress and closed his eyes immediatly, fully willing to succumb to sleep and let it take over his body. He didn't care if he had another dream about Jack or if he didn't. All he wanted was to get some rest so that he'd be able to carry out his plan, which would require all the energy he could muster.

* * *

Nick had been woken up four hours later by the ringing of his cell phone. He tried to ignore it, but it just kept ringing. He reluctantly slid out of bed and headed back into the living room where his cell was waiting for him on the couch. He was actually surprised at how rested he felt, seeing as how he hadn't slept for more than half of what was recommended for a good night's sleep, but it was sure as hell longer than he had slept in a while.

He didn't think to check the caller ID before he opened the phone, which would have saved him some surprise.

"Hello?" he answered, voiced laced with sleep.

"Meet me in twenty minutes," James' voice came from the other line.

"Why?" Nick asked.

"Why do you need a reason?"

Before Nick could reply, James had hung up. Nick groaned as he shut his phone and put it in his pocket, already heading for the door. He quickly slipped on his shoes and grabbed his keys, knowing that it would take at least twenty minutes to get to where he had to meet James.

James had stopped telling Nick where to meet him a long time ago. It was always the same spot, and Nick knew it as well as anyone else that had been in the city for a while. The fountain outside the Bellagio was the perfect place to meet and talk without drawing too much attention to yourself. People would obviously recognize James Sparazza and maybe even Nick sometimes, but they always knew not to say anything and just kept walking. There was always enough people and buzz around them that they blended in perfectly, just two more people standing in front of the beautiful fountain, watching the water shoot into the air before falling back down, only to be shot up again.

Nick felt like the water in the fountain sometimes. He felt like his life was throwing him up and down, never remaining consistent. He was never happy anymore, but had gotten close to it a few times. Sometimes he felt like things were going to be okay and that he'd get his old life back, and others he felt like he was a lost cause and had hit rock bottom. It was like being on a roller coaster that was going a hundred miles an hour and never staying on one track. Not only was it frustrating, it was terrifying.

Recently, James had stopped meeting Nick at "the spot" and had been sending Jack in his place. Nick and Jack would talk necessary business, then they'd talk about anything other than business. Nick had loved doing it because it was the one constant thing in his life and he had thought he would always be able to have it, until a few days ago.

Nick parked in the lot he always did on the strip, only a minute's walk from the Bellagio fountain. He was there early, which surprised him. He looked at his watch and saw that it had only taken him fifteen minutes to get here from his house instead of the usual twenty to twenty-five. Nevertheless, he walked to the spot right in the middle where they always met and leaned against the cold concrete divider in front of him, staring out at the water.

The sun had gone down behind the Bellagio almost an hour ago, so now the water was illuminated by the bright lights. Or maybe the lights were enhanced by the water; Nick wasn't really sure. Nor did he care. He tried not to think or care about anything right now. He just stood there and tried to enjoy something for once. The harder he tried, the more he failed. It just made him think of Jack and how much he missed him. Nick had never lost someone so close to him before, and he was definitely having a hard time dealing with it.

A firm hand suddenly landed on his shoulder, causing him to jump. He turned and saw James smiling at him in slight amusement. "Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean to scare ya."

"It's fine," Nick said. "So why did you want me to meet you here?"

James leaned up against the divider like Nick had been doing, resting his weight on his arms. Nick remained standing straight up. "I'm worried about you. After what happened with Jack and being arrested and all, you've had a pretty rough week."

"I'm fine," Nick said.

"Why do you keep saying 'fine'?" James asked.

Nick stiffened. Whenever he had said 'fine' too many times around Jack, the other man had known that he had been lying. Jack was the only one who could tell though, and Nick didn't know how James had caught on. But he did know that James was trying to get Nick to let his guard down by acting like Jack. That's why he had called him here to talk.

Nick would be damned if he let his guard down. "Because I am. I'm just a little over tired and sad about what happened to Jack."

"Yeah, it was awful," James said with no emotion in his voice. Nick knew he was lying. "I just don't want you getting distracted from the task at hand."

"I did what you wanted," Nick said. "I sold all the chips for much more than they're worth. I finished all my other deals, everything's closed. I'm done."

"Are you?" James asked.

Nick nodded. "Yeah."

James cocked his head to the side. "Because I seem to remember you saying you were in indefinitely."

"I was," Nick replied. "Now I'm out."

"But you're so good at it," James said over enthusiastically. "And it's not like you have another job to go back to."

Nick literally bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something stupid. He knew that James had framed him for Jack's murder so that he'd be arrested and therefor dismissed as a CSI. In turn, James would bail Nick out, trying to make him trust him. After accomplishing all that, except for the trust part, James was now trying to pass the whole business off onto Nick, who wasn't having any of it.

"I don't care," Nick said. "I'll work at In 'n' Out if I have to. I'm not doing this anymore, I just wanna be left alone."

James sighed. "I'm afriad I can't leave you alone, you're my son."

Nick's eyes were locked with James' when he felt someone standing close behind him. He had heard foot steps approaching, but hadn't thought anything of it because where he was standing was always busy. But now he was on edge and went to turn around, but never fully made it. He never got to see who was behind him, but he could venture a guess.

The last thing Nick could remember seeing was the water shooting up into the bright lights as everything started to spin. He slowly fell to the ground as the water returned to the fountain, both him and the water waiting to be shot up again.


	21. Don't Forget Me

Italics once again indicate Nick's dream. Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy.

* * *

_"Il tipo che sta andando vincere la lotta è quello che è disposto a morire piЫ in secondo luogo per appena una di vita."_

_Nick looked all around him, but couldn't see anything. It was pitch black everywhere, except for the light shining down on him. He recognized Jack's voice, but couldn't see him anywhere around him. Not only that, but Jack wasn't speaking English. Nick was too tired and had too bad of a headache to want to deal with this right now._

_"Jack, speak friggen English, would ya?"_

_"You know Italian just as well Nick," Jack said. "You've known it for almost as long as you've known English."_

_Nick was about to argue when Jack spoke, again in Italian._

_"Il coraggio sta facendo che cosa ritiene la destra e non preoccuparsi che siete quello unico che lo farebbe." He paused, then said, "You know what I said. Think about it Nick."_

Italics once again indicate Nick's dream. Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy.

Nick reluctantly thought about what Jack had just said as well and what he had said the first time. He did know Italian very well, it was just hard for him to think it right now. So many things were in his mind that it was making it very hard to concentrate. When he finally figured it out, it didn't make any sense to him.

_Jack must have been able to tell he was confused, so he repeated himself. "Il tipo che sta andando vincere la lotta è quello che è disposto a morire piЫ in secondo luogo per appena una di vita."_

_"The guy that is going to win the fight is the one that is willing to die for one more second of life," Nick replied._

_"Exactly," Jack said._

_"That makes no sense," Nick said._

_But Jack didn't listen. Instead, he repeated himself again, saying, "Il coraggio sta facendo che cosa ritiene la destra e non preoccuparsi che siete quello unico che lo farebbe."_

_"Courage is being able to do the right thing and not care that you are the only one who would do it," Nick said._

_"Correct," Jack replied. "So you know what I said, now use it."_

_"They make no sense," Nick argued. "And why couldn't you have just said that in English?"_

_"Because you wouldn't have had to think about it if I had just told you," Jack said. "You're trying to act more than think. If you think, what to do will just come to you. But don't think with your head. Pensi con il vostro cuore."_

_"Think with your heart," Nick said softly as the light around him began to fade, until he was consumed in totaly darkness._

Nick opened his eyes slowly, more out of necessity than choice. They felt like they were glued shut and weighed a hundred pounds each. His head was already spinning before his eyes were even open, and he could distinctly feel an intense burning at the base of his neck. He felt weightless, and at the same time his muscles felt like they had turned to stone. His vision was blurry, adding to his light headed and dizziness. He inhaled deeply, only to make himself cough to try and rid his throat and lungs of the dusk he had sucked up in the process.

As he coughed, Nick pulled himself up so he was sitting instead of lying on his side. He was finally able to catch his breath and take enough deep breaths to steady himself from swaying. His vision cleared, and for the first time, he was able to look around him. He immediatly wished he couldn't see anything. He noticed he was in the middle of the desert, the only lights coming from the stars and the moon and the distant lights of the city strip miles away. But that's not what made his heart sink to the pit of his chest.

His brother Mike was lying five feet away from his on his back, his head turned to the side. His eyes were open and looking at Nick. His chest was moving up and down slowly, the only sure sign of life. His face was one big bruise underneath the blood spilling from the wound on his forehead. His clothes were torn, dirty and bloodstained, as was his skin. Countless cuts were visible on his arms, neck, chest and legs. Blood was pouring from the cuts all over his body, and the parts where there were no cuts were black with bruises. Nick had never seen a live body in such a bad condition.

Nick slowly stood and moved over to Mike, only to kneel down next to him. Upon doing so, Nick saw that there was a gun on the desert ground, just out of Mike's reach. Mike looked up at Nick, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.

Nick felt tears stinging his eyes as he forced himself to speak. "What happened?"

Mike smiled weakly. "I got what was coming to me," he croaked.

Nick shook his head slowly. "Who did this to you?"

"It doesn't matter," Mike said. "You'll never be able to prove it."

"Yes I can," Nick said as he reached for his phone, only to discover that it had been unclipped from his belt. He reached into his left front pocket and breathed a sight of relief when the zip disk met his fingers.

"They took your phone and left you here to find me," Mike said. "To watch me die."

Nick shook his head again. "You're not gonna die, I'm gonna get you outta here and get you help."

"You don't understand," Mike said, shaking his head. "What they did to me, it's going to take me about twenty more minutes to die, maybe a little bit more. It takes a half an hour to get back to the city without a car. Even if you make it to the city, you won't get help back here in time. I'll be dead long before that."

The tears started to fall from Nick's eyes. "No, I can help you. You're going to be okay. You're not going to die."

Mike nodded. "Yes, I am. I've seen this happen to so many guys before. We planned it out this way. They did it to me so that I'd know I was a goner. There's no other way."

"There has to be," Nick said as he looked frantically around him. But they really were out in the middle of nowhere, nothing around them except for a few sand dunes and an occassional group of dried out trees and bushes casting more shadows into the dark, concealing God knows what. Nick felt like they weren't alone, but had more to worry about at the moment.

"There is," Mike said, glancing to the gun to his right.

Nick shook his head for the umpteenth time. "No, you're going to be okay. Don't give up on me Mike, not yet."

"In this business," Mike said, "when you get whacked, it's always your best friend that does it. I know now that as your blood runs thin and your time runs out. No one will be listening, not even if you scream. Your angels turn to devils, and then you finally figure out thatno one will be with you in the end. That's how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to die alone, but you're here with me. My time's running out, and you're here."

"You're going to be okay," Nick said, hoping that if he said it enough times it would come true.

"We both know I'm not going to make it out of this alive," Mike said. "They beat me up pretty good. I've only got about fifteen more minutes left to live, but this isn't living Nicky."

"Jack said that to you," Nick said. "The stuff about angels and devils."

Mike nodded. "He told you too," he said more than asked.

Nick nodded slightly. "Yeah, but I don't know what he meant."

"That's a first," Mike said with a small smile. "I was bought and sold into this so young. Jack got you out, he saved you, or else this would be you too."

"What does it mean?" Nick asked.

"When it comes down to it," Mike explained, "sooner or later you're going to realize things aren't what you thought they were. Who you thought people were and what you thought was true aren't. What's good turns to bad. I realized this too late. It's not too late for you to reverse your thinking."

"What's right is wrong, and what's wrong is right," Nick said.

Mike nodded. "Just like this," he said, his hand nearest the gun twitching.

Nick shook his head again. "I can't."

"This isn't living," Mike said. "This is suffering, this is torture. This is what they want. They're trying to test you."

"I can't," Nick repeated weakly.

"Don't make the last fifteen minutes of my life the hardest of yours," Mike said.

Nick was at a crossroads unlike any other. What Jack had said was now coming into contex. Shooting Mike would be wrong by the legal definition. But morally, it was the humane thing to do. He was suffering, badly, and was begging for it. He didn't deserve to be in pain and die struggling to breathe. He didn't deserve to die at all, especially since Nick had met him what only seemed like yesterday. Nick stayed there, kneeling next to his brother, watching him suffer, causing pain to himself.

Most people wouldn't be able to do it. Most people wouldn't see it as being the right thing to do and wouldn't have the courage to do what they knew they should because it was supposed to be wrong.

_Pensi con il vostro cuore. Think with your heart._

Nick's heart told him to stand, so he did. Slowly he rose to his feet. He walked around Mike and picked up the gun, the small object weighing down his arm like it was a cinder block. Nick walked back over to Mike, standing close enough so that his brother could wrap his hand around his right ankle tightly, not telling Nick to stop, but trying to make him continue. Nick held the gun by his side, tears flowing down his dust ridden face, clearing trails down his cheeks all the way to his neck where they disappeared underneath the collar of his t-shirt.

Mike tightened his grip on Nick. His breathing was ragged and hoarse and filled the silence around them. Nick could hear it over the beating of his heart in his ears. It was just a reminder that someone he loved was suffering terribly, and he had the power to end it. He had the responsibility to do the right thing and free his brother.

Mike smiled up at Nick. "I love you very much," he said genuinely. "Don't you ever forget that."

"I love you too," Nick said sadly.

He raised the gun, making sure it was lined up for a clean, painless shot. He closed his eyes tightly and focused on the desperate grip on his ankle. Without any further thought, he pulled the trigger. The loud shot that rang out drowned everything else out. The beating of his heart stopped in his ears with the pull of the trigger. The raspy breathing ceased. The grip on his leg loosened, and then was no more.

Nick kept his eyes shut as tightly as possible as he slowly sank down to the desert ground. He wished he could sink all the way through the sand and stay there. He wanted to get away from all the problems and evil that the city lights were illuminating, and especailly from those that the shadows were concealing.


	22. Can't Stop

_"Don't make the last fifteen minutes of my life the hardest of yours."_

Nick didn't open his eyes when he finally hit the desert ground. He didn't open them when what Mike had said to him kept replaying over and over in his mind. He wanted to open them, to see if Mike was still alive, but he couldn't do it because he knew he wasn't. The hand was gone from around his ankle, but he felt like it was still there. A similar feeling was in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. The gun, still in his hand, felt like it was getting heavier by the minute, just like Nick's heart.

_"I love you very much. Don't you ever forget that."_

Nick would never, ever be able to forget his brother's last words. They were burned into his memory, and would stay there no matter what. The sincerity in his voice had made it enough for Nick to not only believe him, but say it in return. He hadn't known his older brothers for very long, but that didn't make any difference to Nick. He still loved him, and still missed him now that he was gone, even though he hadn't been gone for that long. Nick had subconsciously been keeping track of time in his head since he had pulled the trigger. He kept his eyes closed and gripped the gun as tightly as he could, hoping that when he finally opened his eyes, Mike would be sitting in front of him perfectly fine.

Sixteen minutes and twenty-three seconds had passed between when Nick had pulled the trigger and when he had finally opened his eyes. Mike had said that he had fifteen minutes left. Nick opened his eyes, the cool night air stinging his tear filled eyes. Of course, Mike was laying exactly where Nick had last seen him. But now he looked...peaceful. Nick thought he was forcing himself to think that at first, but after a moment he realized he was actually right. He looked peaceful and freed from his pain and suffering.

Nick had vindicated his brother.

Even still, Nick still felt guilty. He had killed someone. Not just someone. His older brother. His actual older brother. He had pulled the trigger, ending his life. Deep down, he knew he had done the right thing. But at the time, it didn't feel like it. He kept wondering what if he could have saved him? What if he could have gotten help somehow? Mike could have made it. He could have been okay, but now there was no way that could ever happen. It was over, and it was Nick's fault.

Nick sat there, staring at Mike. He felt like he was slowly dying from heartbreak. Everything he had set out to do was slowly being destroyed. Jack was dead. Mike was dead. He had been arrested and sat in jail for an extended amount of time he wasn't even sure of. And to top it all off, he was almost one-hundred percent sure that he was being watched at that very moment.

After the Nigel Crane incident - as Nick preferred to refer to it as - he had had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched all the time whenever he was alone. He had spent many a night at Warrick or Catherine's because he was so paranoid. That soon subsided, but after he was always able to tell when someone was, in fact, watching him. Whenever he was with his family and one of his nieces of nephews were playing spy and were hiding somewhere, he could always tell. He couldn't explain it, he just always knew.

Now was no exception. He could feel eyes burning into him, no doubt coming from the depths of the shadows near and far off in the desert. A tank could be behind the bushes that were fiteen feet away from him, and Nick wouldn't be able to see it because it was so dark out. The city lights were doing nothing to illuminate what the shadows obscured.

And at the same time he was worried, Nick didn't care. Sitting there, looking at Mike, Nick realized he did not care what anyone was trying or hoping to do to him anymore. He had to fight and work harder than he ever had before to get his friends to talk to him again, only to have his job and life ripped out of his hands when he was framed and arrested for the murder of his mentor, who was dead, along with his older brother. He didn't care who wanted to hurt him, or even kill him. If they wanted to, best of luck to them, because he sure as hell wasn't going to lay down and die for them now.

It's funny how certain things can make you do others. As Nick sat there, the desire to bring down James Sparazza's crime empire slowly began to build until it was almost an obsession. He wanted nothing more in the world than to get him thrown in jail for the rest of his life. Nick knew it wouldn't bring Jack or Mike back. He knew it wouldn't change the fact that he had been arrested for murder. He even knew that it would probably not lift the burden off his shoulders that had been there since before he could remember. Nick knew all these things, but didn't care. Because he was going to do it anyway.

Nick was pulled from his thoughts when he heard incoherent mumbling followed by a phone snapping shut come from somewhere in the shadows behind him. He froze, but didn't turn around or make any physical incantation that he had heard or suspected anything. He knew James Sparazza was out there somewhere, watching him. And again, he didn't care. Nothing mattered. Nothing was going to stop him now.

The Texan had still been subconsciously keeping track of time in his head. It had been fifty-eight minutes in between when he had pulled the trigger and heard the phone shut. Sixty-three minutes sitting there on the ground before he saw the blue and red flashing lights coming towards him, growing bigger with each passing second. Sixty-four minutes before he could hear the piercing shrieks of the sirens. Sixty-seven minutes before three cruisers came to a stop in front of him, their headlights bliding him from seeing the cops get out of their cars and draw their guns on him.

Nick stood, shielding his eyes from the lights with his left arm, still holding the gun in his right hand. He made no attempt or move to surrender. He just stood there, not putting his hands in the air, dropping the gun or falling to his knees.

"Put the gun down Nicky."

"You know I can't do that Brass," Nick replied.

"Yes you can," Brass responded. "You're under arrest, again."

Jim Brass was the only cop not pointing his weapon at Nick. He was the only one speaking to him, but not the only one watching. The cops weren't the only ones watching either, but none of them knew about the other person. Only Nick knew someone else was watching, but that didn't matter.

"For what?" Nick asked, no surprise what so ever in his voice.

"The trafficking of illegal intelligence devices to other governments and known criminals. We got a tip about all of them, caught them, and they ratted you out."

"Only me?" Nick asked.

Brass nodded. "Yeah. And you're also under arrest for the murder of Michael Sparazza as reported by a witness," he added. "I've never gotten a warrant so quickly in my life."

Nick knew what he was going to to do before even thought to do it. He had had the whole thing planned out in his head as soon as he heard the phone. He knew what was going to happen, and had figured out what he was going to do before he even knew if he was going to be able to do it or not.

"Don't run Nicky," Brass said, reading the other man's mind. "They won't fire unless they have to. Don't give them a reason. Don't run."

Nick shook his head slowly as he smiled slightly. "I never had a choice."

With that, Nick turned and ran as fast as he could, disappearing into the shadows before the police officers had a chance to do anything about it. He was out of sight when they took off after him, pulling out their flashlights and catching glimpses of the fleeing man every few seconds. Brass was in the lead and had his flashlight out, keeping it on Nick's feet so that the cops wouldn't be able to shoot at his retreating back if any of them felt inclined to do so.

"Damn that kid's fast," Brass gasped breathlessly as he struggled to keep up with Nick.

He didn't have to struggle for long. They chased Nick up a sand dune and stopped half way across it when their flashlights landed on Nick's back. He was standing on the far edge, his back to them, gun still in hand. Nick wasn't breathing nearly as hard as the others behind him, and caught his breath much quicker. Still he stood where he was, staring out into the night before him.

"Turn around," Brass instructed. Nick did as he was told. "Now drop the gun."

Nick did the opposite of what he was told. Instead of dropping it, he raised his arm, pointing the gun directly at Brass. He held it there steadily and silently. On the surface, Brass remained cool and seemingly unfased. But inside, his heart jumped into his throat and his heartbeat increased tenfold.

"So you're going to kill me now too?" Brass asked, his voice as cool as his composure.

"I didn't kill them," Nick said.

"It doesn't matter right now," Brass said. "Don't do something you're going to regret."

"I'd rather regret doing something than regret having done nothing," Nick replied.

"Put your guns down," Brass instructed, and his men complied. In return, Brass drew his own gun, poiting his own back at Nick. "Is this what you want?"

Nick shook his head. "I rarely get what I want. None of this is what I want. This is what I have to do."

"I don't have a choice in this Nick," Brass said. "This is what I have to do, and I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't have to. You know that."

"I wouldn't be standing here, holding this, if I didn't have to. You know that," Nick said.

"I have to do my job," Brass said.

Nick smiled slightly. "That's what I'm counting on."

Without any further ado, Nick fired his gun twice. Prior to doing so, he adjusted his aim up at least two feet, sending the bullets soaring over Brass' head, missing the apparent intended target by a substantial amount. Brass had no other choice than to return fire, both bullets hitting the younger man in the chest.

Nick had expected it. He had wanted it. He had planned it. He slowly fell to his knees, the tightness in his chest from before getting worse and worse. The gun fell from his hand. The last thing he remember was the ground rushing up to meet him.

The next thing Nick knew, he was in the backseat of a police cruiser, handcuffed and being rushed to Desert Palms. He opened his eyes, expecting a lot more pain than he was experiencing. He figured the shock had set in by now, and was why he wasn't feeling much. He did feel strong hands pressing down on his wounds, though. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and focused on Brass, who was kneeling on the car floor next to him, applying pressure to his bleeding chest.

Nick opened his mouth, and upon doing so noticed the taste of blood that filled it. He ignore that, along with the warm blood trickling down from the corner of his mouth. He opened his mouth, and forced himself to speak.

"L-left," he managed to choke out.

"Shut up," Brass said gently. "Relax kid."

Nick shook his head as much as he could. "L-listen to m-me. L-left pocket. Make s-sure you geh-get it."

Brass frowned in confusion. Nick took his shaking, handcuffed hands and removed one of Brass' from his chest. He brought it down to rest on his left leg, where the police captain could feel the zip disk through the think fabric of Nick's jeans. Brass was still puzzled, but figured it out after a moment. He smiled when he did.

"That a boy Nicky," he said happily.

Nick smiled as well. "Just doing my job."


	23. In Between

The very first thing that Nick noticed when he opened his eyes was the pain he was in. His chest felt like it was collapsing in on his lungs, threatening to crush him to death. His head was spinning as it steadily throbbed painfully. The bright lights of the hospital room did nothing to ease this either. He blinked several times, waiting patiently as his vision cleared. When it finally did, he took the opportunity to look around at his surroundings.

He instinctively looked to his left, where he saw his left wrist handcuffed to the hospital bed he was laying in. That quickly became the least of his worries when he looked up at Brass, who was sitting in a chair beside him. His expression was something Nick had neither expected nor ever seen before directed at him.

"Did you get what you wanted?" Brass asked coldly.

Nick shook his head slightly. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice raspy and strained.

"Did you get what you wanted?" Brass repeated. "Because I sure as hell didn't. I got to arrest you, again, after I almost killed you. You made me almost kill you. And for what? What was this for Nicky?"

"I can explain," Nick said.

Brass sat back and crossed his arms. "I'd love to hear it."

Nick sighed heavily. "Let me apologize to begin with."

"For what?"

"What I'm about to say," Nick replied. "Trying to be genuine was harder than it seemed. I got caught up in between who I was and who I was trying to be. Trying to be someone else was harder than it seemed. Trying to regain your trust was harder than it seemed. I got caught up in between my pride and my promise. I got caught with my lies and how the truth gets in the way. I had to do what I did, it was the only way."

"Why?" Brass asked simply.

"James was out there," Nick explained. "He called in to you guys where I was and about the chips and said that he saw me kill Mike. I heard him, he wasn't far behind me."

"Why didn't you just tell me that when I got there?"

"Because he would have killed me right there on the spot. I had to make it look like I was still trying to not give in and quit. I had to find a way to give you the disk in my pocket without telling you about it in front of him. He was watching. He would have killed me, then you. I couldn't let that happen," Nick said.

"We could have faked it," Brass said. "You almost died Nick. I almost killed you."

"I'm sorry," Nick said honestly. "But there was no other way. I had to make it look like I wasn't trying to give up."

"But you weren't trying to give up."

"I know that and you know that, but to him, it would look like I was. He's suspicious enough. I needed him to think I was still against you guys until you got what I had," Nick explained.

In response, Brass' cell phone rang. He answered it with a "Hello?", followed by an immediate, "Yes, of course." He hung up, then turned toward the door, where right on cue Grissom walked in with a large manila envelope in his hands. He sat down next to Brass, holding the envelope as if it were a bomb. No one spoke. Brass and Grissom stared down at the box while Nick stared at them.

"This is just a little bit sketchy guys," Nick finally said. "What's going on?"

"We found this at Jack's house," Grissom said. "Inside was a picture of the zip disk you gave us with 'for the cops' written on it. Then there was this folded piece of paper," he said as he withdrew the paper, "with 'for Nick' written on it."

Grissom handed Nick the paper, but Nick didn't open. He waited, and Grissom continued. "I just spoke with Archie. The information on the disk isn't information. It isn't anything. The links and codes for the documents don't make sense, and Archie has never seen anything like them before. As for the audio, it's all incomprehendable gibberish. It's nothing probative."

Nick shook his head slowly. "It has to be. Jack was killed over it. He wouldn't have given it to me if it wasn't of any use."

"Maybe he made a mistake," Brass offered. "Archie tried, he couldn't make anything out of it."

Nick shook his head again. "There's gotta be. Jack wouldn't have spent all those years compiling it all. It's important, I know it is."

"He could have messed up," Grissom said.

"Jack doesn't mess up," Nick said. "I mess up, not him."

Nick opened the paper in his hands as Brass and Grissom watched silently from beside him. Nick felt weird at first when he saw Jack's messy but yet neat scrawl spread out over the page in his hands. He ignored the burning in his chest and read the words Jack had written for him.

_Nicky,_

_You reading this means I'm not around anymore, which believe me, is for the best. Don't blame yourself for whatever happened to me, it wasn't your fault. There was nothing you could have done. This was many years coming and only a matter of time. With that said, stop feeling so guilty, would ya? Hopefully you got whatever plan you had in your head accomplished without getting yourself hurt. If you did, I'm glad I wasn't around to see it. I can't stand to see you hurt or in pain. There's a lot I never told you, and if and when you find it out, just remember that there's a reason I didn't tell you. Even if you don't know what that reason is, there is one. I wouldn't lie to you if I didn't have to._

_You're smart enough to figure out what happened with anyone having to tell you. I wish I could sit here and explain everything to you, but I can't. In time, you'll figure it out, just like everything else. You're not on your own unless you let yourself be. Remember, fear is not afraid of you. Don't be scared of anything, because everything still turns to gold. And if you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last. When all are one and one is all, to be a rock and not to roll._

_I love you Nicky, stay outta trouble for me kid._

Nick read the note over three times, then went back and paid particular attention to a specific line that he had heard before. _Don't be scared of anything, because everything still turns to gold. And if you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last. When all are one and one is all, to be a rock and not to roll._ Mike had said that to him when he had been in the basement with him at the house. Mike had said it then, and Jack had written it in his final words to Nick. What did that mean?

Nick knew he had heard that somewhere else before. He knew that it was more important than he had first thought, he just didn't know why. He didn't know where else he had heard it and what he was supposed to do when he figured it out, but he knew he had to figure it out, and soon.

"Nick," Grissom said, getting the younger man's attention. "Unless we get something from that disk, you're still under arrest for the chips, the murder of Jack and Mike. Do you understand that?"

Nick nodded because he understood, not because he was really listening to Grissom. He was focusing more on that line and where he had heard it before. He thought as hard as he could, but couldn't come up with anything. It wasn't until he thought of his team - his friends - that it came to him.

A huge smile spread across Nick's face, puzzling Grissom and Brass. "Stairway to Heaven," Nick said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Is a good song," Brass added stupidly. "But what does that have to do with you going to jail?"

"Mike and Jack both said a line from it to me. _Don't be scared of anything, because everything still turns to gold. And if you listen very hard, the tune will come to you at last. When all are one and one is all, to be a rock and not to roll._"

"So?" Grissom asked, not following.

"If you play that song backwards, it has a subliminal message." Grissom and Brass just stared at Nick. "So if Archie reverses the codes, links and plays the audio stuff backwards, it'll give you guys what you need."

Grissom looked skeptical. "That's kind of a stretch, Nick."

"Not for Jack," Nick said. "Just call Archie and tell him. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You could be right," Brass said as he took out his phone. He waited while it rung, then said, "Archie? Brass. I'm with Nick, and he wanted me to tell you to reverse the codes and links or whatever for the documents and play the audio backwards. I don't know, just do it please."

Brass waited patiently while Archie did what was asked of him. It took a few minutes, but soon Brass' jaw dropped, and Nick's smile widened.

"Told ya," Nick said without any indication that he was in fact right. He held out his hand, and Brass gave him the phone. "It's Nick," he said.

"Hey, glad you're okay."

"Thanks. So what do you have?"

"Everything," Archie said. "Anything you could ever want to build a case with. Dates, names, signed documents, taped meetings. This is more than enough to clear you and indict James Sparazza."

Nick smiled wider. "Greg's music finally paid off."

Nick stood in the observation room, leaning up against the wall to his right. He watched as Brass and Grissom laid out the evidence in front of James Sparazza, explaining it all in detail to him. There was no way around what was in front of him. His voice on tape. Pictures of him with other cirminals, making deals. Plans written by him to frame Nick for the business and murders or Jack and Mike.

"Your strength turned into your weakness," Grissom said. "You're very meticulate and keep track of everything. You like to write and plan things out. But that just makes more evidence for us to nail you with."

"You're going away for a while pal," Brass said.

"Do you think Nick has enough balls to tesitfy against me?" James asked.

Brass shook his head. "He doesn't have to. He did enough already."

James looked at the glass he knew Nick was standing behind. "But he still doesn't have a job. His mentor's dead, and so is his brother. He knows it's his fault. So I go away, but he has to live with all of this. He has to suffer, not me."

Nick didn't hear anything after "He knows it's his fault." He left the observation room and entered the interrogation room in less than five seconds. Brass stood quickly and grabbed Nick by the shoulders, careful not to touch his still injured chest. That didn't keep Nick from doing what he intended, though.

"It's not my fault," Nick said. "You killed them. You set this whole thing up, and you lost. Your guys sold you out, and you get to die in a cell by yourself. You're the one who gets to suffer, but keep telling yourself whatever you want."

"It doesn't bother you that you're sending your father to jail after you just me him?"

"You're dead to me," Nick said.

"Just like Jack and Mike?" James asked.

Nick shook his head. "No. I still love them and wish they were here. I couldn't care less what happens to you."

"That's not true," James said.

"Yes it is," Nick replied. I'm done lying. I wouldn't say **I hate you** if it wasn't true."

* * *

I didn't spend much time with Nick in the hospital because I wanted to move on and get the next part rolling. There's still some twists, turns, and angst ahead, so sit tight. It's not over yet. Thanks for the reviews.


	24. Let Go

Jim Brass could count on two fingers the number of times a suspect escaped police custody, while they were at the police station. James Sparazza was the second person to do it. They were still unsure of how he did it, but that didn't matter right now. What did was the fact that Nick had left about ten minutes before Sparazza made a run for it and got away. There was no doubt in Brass or Grissom's mind that he was headed for Nick's house, where Nick was by himself, helpless if anything were to happen. Grissom was unable to reach Nick. He had been alternating between the younger CSI's cell and house phone for the last five minutes as him, Warrick and Brass sped towards his house. Every other cop was out looking for Sparazza or meeting Brass and Nick's house. They had to get there before it was too late, before anything happened that they wouldn't be able to live with. Or without.

Nick had no idea what was going on, but he should have expected something like it. He let his guard down and tried to relax, but soon realized that that wasn't going to happen. He didn't even notice that the power was out in house because it was day time. He sank down into his leather couch and closed his eyes, trying to forget the events of the last year or so of his life. The harder he tried not to think about them, the more he thought about it. He thought about everything, and doing so seemed to make it all come back to reality.

Nick's front door flew open, slamming against the wall with such force that it shook all the pictures hanging on the walls. Nick immediately stood, only to dive to the floor a split second later as James Sparazza pulled the trigger of the gun in his hand, sending a bullet just over Nick and through into the wall behind him. Nick pushed himself off his chest on the floor with his hands so he was up on his knees. Before James could fire again, Nick picked up the paid of scissors on the coffee table in front of him and threw them at James. They spun in the air twice before the closed blades pierced his upper left arm, causing him to drop the gun to use his right hand to try and stop the bleeding.

James yelled out in pain as he kicked the coffee table over, sending it flying into Nick. It knocked him over and pinned him against the floor. Nick pushed it off himself and rolled over to the gun before James could bend over and pick it up. Nick grabbed it and in one fluent motion pointed it at James, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"So you're going to kill your father, just like you killed your brother," James said.

Nick shook his head. "You killed him. I saved him."

"Keep telling yourself that," James replied. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"All because of you, I haven't slept in so long," Nick said. "And when I do, I have nightmares, most of the time about what I've done, but other times about drowning. I dream about drowning in the ocean, trying to get to shore where Mike and Jack are yelling for me to swim harder. But the harder I try, the farther away I get and the softer their voices become. All because of you, I've lost everything I've ever loved."

"When are you going to accept the blame for the things you've done?" James asked.

"When I do something that's my fault," Nick replied. "I've accepted what I've done for you and your stupid business. I came to grips with all the bad things I did, but I'm making up for it by getting you thrown in jail."

"Wouldn't you rather kill me?" James asked. "Because no matter what you do, nothing will bring back Mikey or Jack."

Nick couldn't hold back any lomger. His fist flew forward until the gun in his hand connected with James' head. It sent the other man to the floor, where he landed with a thud. He began crawling on the floor until he was up against the far wall, hand over his bleeding forehead.

"They're still dead," James said mockingly. "And you know that it's your fault."

Nick cocked the gun and pointed it down towards the man on the floor. He heard the sirens of the cars pull into his driveway and the pounding of the shoes running up to his house. The footsteps stopped dead right behind him, where Brass, Grissom and Warrick came to a dead stop. In front of their eyes was the exact opposite of what they had been expecting. Instead of coming to Nick's rescure, they were apparently coming to James'. Nick had the gun on James, and it didn't look like it was going to end well from there.

"How does it feel to be on your own?" James asked. "How does it feel to have nothing left to live for?"

Nick didn't answer. He knew his friends were behind him, but he didn't care. He tried to block out the millions of things running through his head and focus on the task at hand. Nothing was stopping him from pulling the trigger. He had already lost his job. He had already lost his brother and one of the only people he's ever been able to trust. He didn't know what to do anymore or how to make it all better. He'd thought he had won, but he was beginning to think he was wrong. Sure James was going to go to jail, but Nick hadn't gotten anything else accomplished other than destroying the biggest crime business in history. That didn't seem good enough.

"Why are you still living?" James asked. "You should have given up a long time ago."

Nick shook his head. "I'm not giving up."

"Why the hell not?" James asked. "What is there left for you to do? You can't change the past."

"But I can make it better," Nick said.

James scoffed. "How?"

Before Nick could answer, Warrick chimed in. "It's not worth it man," he said softly. "Come on Nicky, we got him. He's going to jail for the rest of his life."

"And you're going to regret everything throughout the rest of yours," James added.

"Don't listen to him bro," Warrick said. "You can't give up now. Don't give up man, you never give up."

"You gotta start somewhere," James said coyly. "You had the guts to shoot Mike. How is this any different?"

"Because I love Mike," Nick answered. "And I hate you. I saved Mike. Now I'm saving myself. I'm letting go."

Nick moved his arm to the right about three inches. James closed his eyes, expecting to be dead at any minute. Instead, he was met with the sound of gunshots ringing through his ears. They continued until Nick was out of bullets. James flinched with each one, waiting for one to hit him. None of them did. They all went into the wall, where Nick was aiming. When he was out of bullets, Nick threw the gun as hard as he could at the man curled up in the fetal position on the floor. It hit him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him and making it easy for Brass to pull him to his feet.

While Brass and another officer who had just arrived on the scene cuffed James, Warrick grabbed Nick by the shoulders and carefully pulled him out of the house into the backyard. Nick didn't fight him on it and went willingly. Once they got out there, Nick fell to his knees, bringing Warrick down with him. His best friend pulled him into a tight hug as the tears fell from Nick's sad eyes.

Warrick held onto Nick as he let go.

* * *

Doc Robbins had only thrown Nick Stokes out of his office once, and that was because he had snooping around, looking for a report after he had been repeatedly told it was still in the process of being finished. This time, Doc didn't want to **throw** Nick out, but **keep** him out because of who he was working on. But his efforts had been futile, and now he was standing across the table from Nick, with Mike Sparazza in between them.

"What's the COD?" Nick asked Doc, his eyes glued to his brother's body in front of him.

"You shouldn't be in here," Doc said for the tenth time. "I know you've been cleared, but this is too much for you Nick."

Nick looked up at the doctor with tears in his eyes. "What's the COD?" he asked again, softer this time.

Doc Robbins couldn't help but give in to that look. "It's hard to say for sure," he answered honestly. "It appears to be the gunshot, but there was minimal tissue reaction, which tells me that he was on his way out from his other injuries he had sustained. The bullet killed him quicker than everything else would have."

Nick looked back down at Mike and nodded. "He was suffering from all of it," he said more than asked.

"Yes," Doc confirmed. "That's true. But you already knew that."

Nick nodded again. "I was with him. He could barely move. He was in so much pain...he begged me to."

Doc froze uncomfortably. "Are you sure I'm the person you should be telling this to?"

Nick looked up at Robbins and smiled sadly. "Super Dave's not around."

Doc Robbins laughed lightly. "I'd say you did the right thing. He was suffering, badly. You made it quick and painless, if it's any consolation.

Nick shook his head slowly. He looked down at the floor as the tears fell from his eyes. "It's not."

"Not much is going to be," Robbins said. "Just hang in there, would ya?"

Nick nodded as he turned to leave. "Thanks for not throwing me out Doc," he said with a small smile as he left.

He was halfway to his car in the parking lot when Brass came running up to him. The captain came to a stop and immediately frowned when he saw that Nick's eyes were red-rimmed from crying.

"I just saw Mike," Nick answered, his voice cracking slightly.

Brass nodded slightly. "Oh," he said simply.

"So what's up?" Nick asked.

"Ecklie and agent Waters are holding a press conferece."

Nick frowned this time. "For what?"

"You," Brass replied. "The FBI is so estactic that we got Sparazza that they called the sheriff and Ecklie and wouldn't hang up until they agreed to reinstate you."

"You're kidding," Nick said in disbelief.

Brass shook his head. "I'm serious. Everyone's so excited he's off the streets that they don't care about the rules. They're bending them. You get your job back if you get your ass to that press conference right now."

Nick sighed sarcastically. "I hate press conferences."


	25. Hold On

_"Nick Stokes is not a criminal. He is not a murderer. He has been cleared from the accusations and because of his bravery and help in catching James Sparazza, virtually shutting down his crime organization, I hereby reinstate him with the power vested in me from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Thank you."_

Agent Waters' was short, sweet and to the point. Surprisingly, there were no protests or outbursts from the crowed or media. Everyone was so happy that James Sparazza was finally behind bars that they saw Nick as a hero, not one of them. Nick was glad that he got his job back and was cleared from being seen as a killer. He didn't care that it was a complete turn from what it had been before. Now, as he was walking down the halls of the lab with Brass, people were smiling at him and waving, even occassionally giving him a thumbs up. Nick shook his head slowly, but soon forgot about all that when he realized that Brass was leading him to the break room where one person and one person only sat at the table, waiting for him.

Brass didn't go in with Nick. He didn't even tell him to go in the break room, or break his stride. He just walked right on by, knowing that Nick knew he was meant to go in the break room. Nick hesitated at the door, but didn't know why. He wasn't sure what to say once he got inside, and hated himself for feeling so lost when he should be happy that the person sitting inside was there for him. Nick took a deep breath and reached out his shaking hand and opened the door, going inside and shutting the door silently.

Nick stood there, staring at the other man's back. He hadn't heard him come in, but just as Nick was thinking of turning and running, he turned around and faced Nick.

"Hey Nicky."

Nick smiled involuntarily. "Hi Jason," he replied softly. He wanted to go over to him, but was rooted to the spot.

Jason seemed to be fine, however. He stood from his chair and walked over to Nick, stopped two feet away from him. "How ya doin?" he asked.

Nick shrugged casually. "Fine. I got my job back and was cleared."

"I know," Jason said with a nod. "Warrick told me."

"I should have known he was behind this."

"He always is," Jason replied. "It's because he cares about you, and knows I do too."

"I know," Nick said, wondering why his voice sounded so weird to his ears.

"When are you going to stop lying to me?" Jason asked.

Nick frowned slightly. "About what?"

"You said you were fine. Whenever you say that, it means you're anything but fine," Jason answered. "I've known you for thirty years, I think I can tell when you're lying. I can definitely tell when you're not okay. Stop pretending to be okay."

Nick shook his head slowly. "I can't. I have to pretend until it happens."

"What if it never happens?" Jason asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "What are you gonna do when you realize that you wasted all this time pretending to be fine when you could really have been fine if you would just let someone help you?"

Nick tried to swallow the lump in his throat before he spoke. "Don't ya think I've done enough damage as it is without asking for more help? Besides, nothing can help me. Not after what I've done."

"Those things are forgivable if you let them be," Jason said.

"I killed Mike," Nick said without thinking about it. It just came out before he could do anything about it.

Jason stared at him in shock for several long moments. Then he finally spoke. "What?"

Nick nodded weakly. "I killed him. I woke up in the desert and he was next to me and beat up real bad. He was suffering. He begged me to do it, do I did. James left me a gun to see if I would do it, and I did. I shot him. I killed him."

"He was dying anyway Nick," Jason said, trying to reason with him. "You put him out of his misery. You helped him."

Nick ignored the fact that Jason had just spoken. "He had his hand on my ankle. I closed my eyes because I couldn't watch it happen. I pulled the trigger, and right after, I fell to the ground. I can still feel his hand on my ankle, but he let go when he died. I can still feel it because it's my fault."

Jason shook his head as he put his strong hands firmly on Nick's shoulders. "You can still feel it because you love him," he said. "You feel guilty for what happened, but you know that at the same time, you did the right thing. You didn't make him suffer because you love him, and he loved you."

"I don't deserve to be fine," Nick said, his voice nothing but a whisper now.

"Yes you do," Jason said, nodding slightly. "If anyone does, you do. Don't give in now."

"I've never given in. Maybe that's the problem. Maybe now, after all that's happened, I should just give up. Maybe that's the secret," Nick said, the tears building in his eyes threatening to spill at any moment.

"That's bullshit and you know it," Jason said gently. "What would giving up get you other than more pain and heartache? Why don't you want to be happy Nicky?"

"Because I don't deserve to be," Nick replied. "And I'm scared."

"To be happy?"

Nick nodded slowly. "Anytime I've ever been happy, something happens and takes it away. Like you not being my real brother. Then meeting my real brother, only for me to have to kill him later. And Jack dying. Happiness never got me anywhere good."

Jason shook his head. "You can't be scared to be happy. Shit happens, and I know, mostly to you. But everything will be alright if you just hold on."

Nick laughed humorlessly. "Jack told me to let go."

"Somethings you gotta hang on to," Jason said, "and others you have to let go. The trick is finding out which is which."

"Which is this?" Nick asked, looking briefly at Jason's hands on his shoulders.

Jason didn't answer verbally. Instead, he pulled Nick towards him until their chests were pressed against one another before wrapping his arms tightly around the younger man's back. Nick was surprised at first, but then the surprise went away and he hugged Jason back.

"I won't let go if you won't," Jason said, then pulled back. "Metaphorically, of course."

Nick smiled the first real smile in a long time. "You're such a dork," he said, referring to the other man's lame joke.

"You're the biggest dork I know," Jason fired back. "I get it from you."

"But you're older than me," Nick argued. "If anything, I'm the one that got it from you."

"Not true," Jason, shaking his head slightly.

"And why's that?" Nick asked.

Jason smiled slightly. "Because I'm older than you, therefor I'm always right and you're wrong little brother."

"I am always wrong," Nick said.

"Stop," Jason replied. "Give yourself a little credit sometimes man."

"I can't," Nick said with a sigh. "Not after everything's that has happened to me. Not just this. Everthing."

Jason frowned slightly. "What else do you mean, just like the Walter Gordon and Nigel Crane thing, right?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah," he answered a little too quickly.

"What else?" Jason asked.

Nick shook his head. "Nothing."

"Stop lying to me," Jason said. "What else is bothering you? Other than this whole thing and the other stuff, I know that and don't blame you there. What else aren't you telling me?"

Nick had unvoluntarily backed up until his back was pressed against the glass wall on the far side of the break room. He had been shaking his head as he backed up, but stopped abruptly when his back hit the wall. He stood there, wanting to run away, but was rooted to the spot. Jason was staring at him, worry filling his eyes. He slowly walked over to Nick, who tried to move backwards even though he knew there was a wall behind him.

"Nick," Jason said softly. "What else haven't you told me?"

Nick shook his head again. "Nothing," he said, his voice soft and cracking. "Nothing, just that other stuff. Nothing else, only that. That's all."

"Then why are you trying to run away from me right now?" Jason asked. "Through a glass wall," he added.

"You don't wanna know," Nick said as he began to panic. "You just don't, okay?"

"Yes I do," Jason said with a slight nod. "Let me help you."

"I tried to let you help me," Nick said. "But you didn't want to do it."

"Killing you isn't helping you," Jason said. "I could never hurt you."

Nick laughed humorlessly. "I could kill Mike, but you can't kill me. Either I don't love him or you don't love me."

"I do love you Nicky," Jason said softly.

"Then you should have fucking killed me," Nick said. He wanted to yell, but his voice came out barely above a whisper.

"Why?" Jason asked. "What could make you want to end your life so bad? Why won't you tell me?"

"I always think about it," Nick said. "That's why I tried to kill myself before, not just because of the kidnapping. I had nightmares all the time. They wouldn't go away, not even after over twenty years. They kept coming back."

"If you don't talk about it, they'll keep coming back. Let it out Nick," Jason said. "Let go."

Nick's eyes locked with Jason's when he echoed Jack's words from what seemed like ages ago. Nick had only told Catherine this before, no one else. Not even Jack. He had almost told Jack and Warrick a few times, but never could. Now, after hearing those words, he felt like he had to tell Jason, even though he really didn't want to. At all.

So he kept shaking his head. "You don't want to know."

"Will telling me help you?" Jason asked. "Don't lie. Do you want to get this off your chest or not?"

Nick swallowed. "I...you don't."

"That neither answers my question nor is it a sentence," Jason said. "Honestly, deep down, do you want to tell me?"

Nick nodded weakly. "But I can't," he said sadly.

"Yes you can," Jason said. "Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and let it all out."

Nick did as Jason said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He kept his eyes closed, but images started flooding his mind, threatning to take over. His eyes snapped open and locked with Jason's right before he forced the words from his lungs out through his mouth.

"I was molested when I was nine," Nick blurted. He had to admit, he did feel better after saying it. If only a little.

Jason, on the other hand, looked like someone had spray painted his face white. "What?" was all he could manage.

"Mrs. Hanin," Nick said. "Our old babysitter."

Jason was the one shaking his head now. "I was with you when we got babysat."

"You were at your friend's house, mom and dad went to a dinner party or something and everyone else was out or at college. I was getting ready for bed and she came in and..." Nick trailed off, then somehow continued. "I didn't know what was going on. She was nice, and I figured she was just giving me a goodnight hug or something. Then she started taking my clothes off."

"I don't understand," Jason muttered. "She didn't...actually...she just..." he couldn't bring himself to say it at that moment. When he finally did, he stumbled over the words. "She only...t-touced you, r-right?"

Nick shook his head slowly.

"No," Jason said in disbelief. "You had, I mean...she made you have-"

"Sex with her," Nick finished, knowing Jason wouldn't be able to. "She was stronger than me, I couldn't help it. She was just on top of me and I couldn't move. I had obviously never done anything like that before, so I just kinda laid there."

"She was married," Jason said, as if that had mattered to her. "And you were only nine. How could she have done that? How could she make you do that?"

"I don't know," Nick answered lamely.

"She actually touched you..._there_?" Jason asked. Nick nodded. "I just don't know what to say right now. You were so little, how could she do that?" Nick didn't try to offer an answer. "Did you ever tell mom and dad?"

Nick shook his head. "No, the only other person I've told was Catherine. I didn't want anyone else to know, especially you."

"Why?" Jason couldn't help but ask.

"I didn't want you to know and blame yourself or anything," Nick replied.

"Do you blame me?" Jason asked. "For not being there? For not protecting you?"

Nick shook his head again. "No, of course not. I don't blame anyone but myself."

"It wasn't your fault," Jason said. "She forced you to have sex with her when you were_ nine-years-old._ That's not your fault. It's hers. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Isn't it wrong that it still affects me now?" Nick asked.

"Of course it's not wrong," Jason said. His eyes widened a bit. "That's why you never had sex in high school or anything."

Nick nodded weakly. "I couldn't. It freaked me out. It still does. I can't do it unless I'm drunk, because then I don't think about it. I don't realize what I'm doing. I know it sounds bad, but it's true. I have to be wasted to have sex."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Jason said. "Not after what happened to you. It's totally understandable."

Nick closed his eyes for a bit longer than a normal blink. When he opened them, he stared at the floor for a moment before forcing himself to look back up at Jason.

"I can't believe I actually told you," Nick said softly. "I never thought I could. Especially now, of all times."

Jason smiled slightly. "Well I'm glad you did. Now I know why you haven't found yourself a girl yet," he joked, knowing he could without getting Nick mad.

"That, and the fact that I work so much doesn't help. Neither does getting arrested."

Jason nodded. "Definitely not. But now you know that no matter what happens to you, you can always come to me. I'm sorry about what happened to both Mike and Jack, but you still have me Nicky. Don't forget that."

Nick smiled. "I would never be able to."


	26. Who I Am

No one _wants_ to go to a funeral, it's just something you do out of respect, to say one last goodbye, and maybe even get closure somehow. Funerals are never easy, especially when you're close with the person. One funeral is enough to drain a person, never mind two. Going to two funerals in a year can cause some real serious emotional problems. Attending two funerals in a month is unheard of. But Nick didn't attend two funerals in a year, or a month. He did it in one week.

Jack Miller had no immediate family left. His parents were both deceased, and his only relative was his brother who still lived in Italy, whom Jack had had a falling out with years ago and the two hadn't spoken since. Jack had never been married, and in his last will and testament, he left everything he had to Nick. Every last thing. Jack usually meandered wherever James went and lived in his large estates, but when he could, Jack went home to Italy to spend some time. He left Nick an enormous house, completely paid off and belonging to him, on the east coast city of Bari. Nick had been to the house once, and it was gorgeous. It was right on the ocean and five minutes from a small shopping district with restaurants, shops and plenty of other things to do.

Anyone would be content with a house, especially a house like that. But Jack hadn't stopped at that. He had also left Nick his large fortune of just over twenty-seven million dollars. Nick had always known that Jack was a rich guy, but he never knew he was that rich. When Jack's lawyer told Nick all of this, he couldn't believe it. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with all that, but he put that to side for the time being. He had Jack's service to think about first off.

It had to have been one of the dreariest days in Las Vegas history. It was chilly; a mere fifty-six degrees and foggy. The sun tried to poke through the clouds, but couldn't and seemed to give up just before the burial started. The priest gave a good eulogy of Jack, one that Nick had written. He couldn't bring himself to deliver it himself.

There was quite an impressive turnout for someone who was seen as a criminal. Old friends came to pay their last respects, most of whom Nick had met once or twice. Nick had thought that the service would drag on and take forever, but before he realized it, Jack had been lowered into the ground in front of his tombstone. Nick stayed long after the last shovel full of dirt had been thrown on and everyone else had left. A woman lingered a bit longer than everyone else, but Nick didn't know who she was. He had never seen her before, he was sure of that even though he couldn't get a good look at her face because she kept it mostly hidden behind a tissue she was crying into.

Mike's service went much the same. The weather was almost identical, except there was a slight misting of freezing cold rain. Nick stood in between Catherine and Warrick, just like he had done at Jack's. He shoved his hands into his pants' pockets, hoping to warm them up, but not succeeding. His breath exploded in front of him as soon as it escaped his mouth, but he could still clearly see Mike's tombstone in front of him, telling everyone that he had only been forty-nine years of age when his life ended.

Mike's service was almost the exact same as Jack, except when it was done, Nick didn't hang around. He couldn't take it anymore. As soon as it was over, he went as quickly as he could away from everyone and towards the far edge of the cememtary where there was a bench and a small clutter of trees. He disappeared there, away from everyone and away from where both Mike and Jack were now buried, forever.

The first cigarette was lit and in his mouth thirteen-steps before Nick got to the trees. He didn't bother to sit down on the bench. He just leaned up against the nearest tree, inhaling the heat from the cigarette deeply. He held it in his lungs before beathing it out slowly. He wasn't surprised that it wasn't doing much to ease his nerves. He knew nothing would be able to. That was one of the only things he was sure of. That, and the fact that Catherine and Warrick knew him well enough not to chase after him. He knew his friends were going to give him time, and he was thankful for that, because he sure as hell needed it.

Nick was glad that he had bought a new pack of cigarettes yesterday, because he was sure going through this one fast. He never smoked this much, especially in one day, but he figured he had a good enough excuse. One after the other, he smoked them and then disposed of them in the ash tray next to the bench to his left. He stopped leaning up against the tree for support. He stood straight up, starting at the sky in front of him, wondering how long until the it was going to turn black. He didn't want to look at his watch for fear that only ten minutes had gone by when it felt like ten days. So he just stood there, completely still except for the up and down motion of his arm bringing the cigarette back to his lips.

Nick had just turned to put out his eleventh cigarette when out of the corner of his eye he saw someone walking towards him. He twisted the butt into the ashes before turning completely to see who it was. It was the woman fro Jack's funeral, the one who had lingered a longer than everyone else. She had apparently done the same, and this sparked in interest in Nick. He didn't know who she was, but she obviously knew who he was and had known both Jack and Mike.

Nick stood there, his hands shaking slightly by his sides, both from the cold and the millions of emotions flowing through him at the moment. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just stood there, waiting as she walked towards him with her head down. She finally came to a stop in front of him before looking up and smiling at him with the traces of tears in her eyes. She was about twenty-five or so years older than Nick, but she still took care of how she looked. Her dark hair was tied neatly behind her, two loose strands falling down the sides of her face. Her dark eyes locked with Nick's, giving away nothing more than her tanned face was.

"Hi Nick," she said. Her voice was light and had a slight accent to it, but Nick couldn't quite place it.

"Hi," he said quietly. He hadn't expected his voice to be so weak, but apparently the woman did because she didn't seem phased by it.

"I'm Christina Palani. I know you don't know me," she said.

Nick shook his head slightly. "Should I?" he asked.

A stray tear fell from her right eye and trickled down her cheek. She nodded slowly. "I'm your mother."

Nick felt like he had been punched in the throat. He stopped breathing for a good couple of seconds before air finally went back into his lungs. His hands stopped shaking, but his head didn't. He stared at the woman in front of him for a long time before he could speak again.

"What?" was all he could muster. All that waiting for not that much.

Christina nodded slightly. "I'm your mother."

Nick kept shaking his head. "But Mike said that-"

"I was dead," she finished. "He thought that. James and I decided that it was best for you two to think that. When his business took off, so did I. I couldn't live like that anymore. I wanted out, and those were the conditions that came with it. I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to meet my youngest son because of the death of my oldest."

"I don't...understand," Nick said, even though he did. "Why didn't Jack ever tell me?"

"He didn't have the heart to do it," she answered. "He knew you wouldn't be allowed to see me, but knew you'd try. It was for the same reason he never told you about Mikey. He was protecting you. I know it may not seem like that, but he was."

"Okay," Nick said before he took a deep breath. "Okay, fine. This is fine. I can handle this."

Christina smiled sadly. "Are you sure?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah. It's not like I've never had to deal with something like this before. Suddenly, I'm finding out anything I've ever wanted to know. Better than never knowing I guess."

"I'm not here because I want anything from you," Christina said. "I'm here because I couldn't go one more day without talking to you. Without seeing you. This is the closest I've been to you since the night you left. I think about it everyday, and it hurts like nothing else. But truth be told, if I could go back, I wouldn't do anything differently. You had a better life without me. You grew up to be a great young man, and I'm just glad that I get to see you."

"Too bad Mike isn't still here," Nick said.

Christina shook her head. "There's nothing I could wish for more. But he's not, and it hurts like it hurt when I lost you. But I wasn't going to let you walk away without knowing."

Nick nodded slightly and fell silent. He looked down at the cobblestone path beneath his black shoes. He was thirty-six years old, and had just met his mother for the first time. Well, techinally not, but he couldn't remember her from before, so he was counting this as the first time. He wasn't mad or anything. He didn't know what he was. Relieved maybe. But definitely not mad like he thought he would be.

"You get that awful habit from your father," Christina said suddenly, breaking the five or so minutes of silence.

Nick looked up at her, then followed her gaze to the ashtray with the cigarette butts in it. He frowned slightly, not understanding her. "James didn't smoke," Nick said matter-of-factly.

"I know," Christina said. "Jack did."

"But you said-" Nick started, but stopped abruptly when he put it together faster than he could speak. His words fell short, and all he could do for a moment was stare at Christina. "No," he said softly, shaking his head again.

Christina nodded, another tear escaping her dark eyes. "Jack's your father."

Nick kept shaking his head. "He can't be. He always said...he always told me it was James. And then Mike's blood matched mine, which means we have the same two parents, and his father's James."

Christina shook her head. "You both have the same parents, Jack and myself."

"How?" Nick breathed.

"I met Jack years before James," Christina said. "His mother was from Italy, and that's where I was born. We met there when we were thirteen and spent every summer after that together. We never got married, but it was almost as if we had. I had Mike when I was only eighteen, then Jack and I moved to the states for Jack's work. He met James here, and they became partners. Jack was looking to get out of the business, but knew if he did, his old enemies would be after him if he wasn't a boss. He was afraid they'd come after me and Mike too, so he set me up with James. James wanted me as a trophy, nothing more, and I never loved James."

"Then how did James think Mike was his son?" Nick asked.

"He pretended Mike was," Christina said, "so that it wouldn't be hard on him. James knew Mike was Jack's. But what he doesn't know is that when he was away on one of his business excursions in Europe when I was living in New York, that Jack came by like he usually did and we would spend the night or weekend together. The only difference that time was that I got pregnant, with you. Jack wouldn't let me tell James. He was so scared that James would kill me, and you, for it."

"I can't belive this," Nick said, his voice barely above a whisper. "All this time, Jack was my father, and he never said anything. He never told me, I never knew. Now it's too late."

"What would you have done differently?" Christina asked, but didn't wait for an answer. "You two were closer than any father and son. He loved you and you loved him. Titles wouldn't have changed it."

"Jack said the same thing about my last name," Nick said. "He said it didn't make me who I am."

"He's right," Christina said. "Your last name is Stokes, for all intents and purposes. But it doesn't change how you act or who you are as a person. And from what I see here and what Jack has told me about you, you're doing just fine Nick."


	27. It's Something

"This has a little Silence of the Lambs type feel to it, don't ya think?"

Nick rolled his eyes at the man on the other side of the glass. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You're scared of me, but you need my help," James replied.

"No I don't," Nick said, shaking his head. "You're in jail, and your business is completely shut down. I have my life back. I don't need anything from you."

"Then why are you here?" James asked.

Nick sighed. "I honestly don't know. A few people thought it would be a good idea, and I guess I did too."

"What people?" James inquired. "No one that you know would want you around me."

"Mom was one of them," Nick said. James turned pale instantly. "Yeah, I know she's alive. She told me everything."

"You're gonna believe that bitch over me?"

"She never tried to kill me," Nick replied.

"I wasn't trying to kill you," James said. "I was trying to give you the perfect life everyone wants. You coulda had anything you wanted. Snap your fingers and boom; a beautiful super model falling into your bed. Access to any club, bar, or restaraunt in the world. Keys to whatever mode of transportation you wanted. And now what do you have? Nothing."

Nick nodded slightly. "You're right, I did lose a lot. But all that stuff you just said, I never had it. So I didn't lose it. I lost much more valuable things."

James nodded as well. "And you'll never be able to get them back. You know that, I know that, everyone knows that. You lost everything you had left to lose."

"I lost Jack and Mike, I understand that," Nick said. "But I still have my job. I still have my friends, who still love me even though I was a criminal and lied to them. And I'm still me, I'm still Nick. I didn't lose as much as you did."

"What are you talking about?"

"You lost everything you've ever had," Nick responded. "Your reputation, your money, your houses, you legend status. You're nothing but a murderer and a crook. You're gonna be like the bad guy in any movie ever made. You gave a pretty good performance, but you'll never get anything from it."

James opened his mouth to speak, but Nick continued. "And you lost me. You lost me, and you lost Mike, and you lost Jack. Your only chances in the world. We're gone."

"You're still here," James said. "You can't do anything about me being your father."

"I don't have to because you're not," Nick retorted. "Jack is."

"You're a fucking liar," James challenged.

"Am I?" Nick asked. "Think about it. You know that Mike isn't really your son. His blood was a perfect match to mine, which means we have the same parents. Mike's are mom and Jack. So are mine."

James stood up, almost dropping the telephone receiver in the process. A guard quickly came over and forced him back into his seat. He took several deep breaths before he spoke.

"You were more like me than him," James said coldly.

Nick shook his head. "I could have been. I could have been fake, stupid, evil, and ruthless. I could have been just like you. But I wasn't. No matter how close I came, I was never like you. Jack saved me from you because he loved me, something you would know nothing about."

"Shut up," James said firmly.

"Do you even know how to feel anything?" Nick asked.

"Shut up," James repeated.

"I guess not," Nick said, something like sincere sadness in his voice. "Just remember, as your blood runs thin and your time runs out, no one will be listening, not even if you scream. Your angels turn to devils, and then you finally figure out that no one will be with you in the end. You brought this all on yourself, and you can lie all you want, but I know that it's going to torture you for the rest of your life. You lost everything, some things that you never even had to begin with. Like your heart."

"Don't try to act like a tough guy and make me feel bad," James said.

"How does it feel?" Nick asked. "How does it feel to have no one care what happens to you? You may think I lost more, but I still have something left. I have a lot more left than you do. You have nothing, nothing at all."

"And what exactly do you have Nick?" James asked. "You lost your father and brother, in one week. You finally met your mother, who you'll soon find out is a money grubbing whore. You lost two things and gained only one. According to my calculations, you're still down one."

"I'm not in jail for the rest of my life," Nick replied. "I still have my friends, my family. I never said I didn't lose anything. But I didn't lose everything."

Nick hung up the receiver as he stood up. He pushed the chair out with the back of his knees and turned to his right, heading out of the room at a steady pace. He felt James' eyes burning into the back of his head, but he didn't turn around. He didn't even consider it. All he did before he disappeared down the next corridor was nod slightly to the guard at the door, receiving a nod in return. And with that, Nick was out of the building, back in the parking garage where his Denali awaited him.

Nick opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. He closed the door slowly as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the leather headrest behind him. He was thankful for the freezing air pulsing through the vents straight onto his face. It wasn't particularly hot out, but the cold air felt good on Nick's hot skin. He felt like his blood had turned to fire, and maybe it had. Nick didn't wasn't sure of much anymore, but he didn't care either.

"Want me to drive?"

Nick opened his eyes and looked to his right. "Nah, I'm fine," he replied.

"You sure?" Warrick asked skeptically. "You look kinda pale man."

Nick nodded. "I'm sure. I needed to do that."

Warrick smiled slightly. "Just like when you had to do it with Kelly Gordon too," he said, and Nick nodded again. "I understand, it makes sense. I just want you to be okay."

"I am okay," Nick answered honestly. "Right now, at least. I'm going to be okay. As long as I have something left, I'm gonna be fine."

* * *

Sorry this chapter was short and a long time coming. I was on vacation for a week, and have spent a lot of time with friends recently. There's still a few more, and they will be a little different than the others. Hope you're enjoying.


	28. Same Blood

Nick drove back to his house, knowing without anything needing to be said that Warrick was coming over. Nick saw out of the corner of his eye that Warrick was glancing over at him every few seconds, just to make sure that Nick really was okay. And he was, for right now at least. Everything that had happened seemed to be taking its time getting to Nick, and he knew it was only a matter of time before it all hit him at once. He was ready for it, he just didn't want it to happen.

The Texan pulled into his driveway and killed the engine. The two men got out of the car and silently went into Nick's house, remaining silent when they entered the living room and sat down, Nick on the couch and Warrick on the recliner. They weren't silent for much longer. Both men knew it wouldn't last, they were just waiting to see if the other would break it first.

Warrick was the first to speak. "So what did he say?" he asked.

Nick sighed slightly. "He said he was trying to give me a better life. A perfect life. He said I could have had anything I wanted. He said I had nothing left, and when I told him he wasn't my father, he said it didn't matter because I was more like him than I was like Jack."

"That's not true," Warrick said, shaking his head. "You're nothing like him."

"I could have been," Nick said.

"But you're not."

Nick nodded slowly. "I know. I just wish that I had known about Jack so much sooner. He could have told me. He should have."

"He was a father to you anyway," Warrick said. "Whatever reason he chose not to tell you must have been a damn good one."

"I know, but still. Finding out now just hurts. None of this feels real, but there's so many little reminders of what happened everywhere. Every time I change my shirt or take a shower, I see the scars from the bullets Brass fired. Everytime I turn the radio on, Stairway to Heaven ends up coming on. Every time I fall asleep, I have a nightmare. And I can still feel Mike's hand on my ankle, hanging on until..." Nick trailed off abruptly.

Warrick frowned slightly. "You were there when he died?" he asked. "I thought you just found him there, then Brass showed up. You were there?" Nick nodded weakly. "What happened?"

Nick dropped his eyes from Warrick's to the floor below his feet. He sighed heavily. "I was talking to James, then the next thing I know I'm waking up in the middle of the desert next to Mike, who was beat up worse than I've ever seen. He was worse than every single one of the victims of the mob that attacked Greg. He was dying, and he knew it. They did it to him on purpose so he'd know he was dying and would know he didn't have a chance. He said they did it to guys all the time, they'd beat them so bad and leave them far enough away that they didn't stand a chance."

"But of course you tried to help him," Warrick said.

Nick nodded. "I wanted to go get help, but he wouldn't let me. He said there was no way. He said he didn't want the last fifteen minutes of his life to be the hardest of mine."

Warrick watched Nick intently, knowing there was more to this story. "What happened Nicky?"

"He told me to," Nick said as he looked up at Warrick. "He was suffering, bad. There was a gun next to him. He told me to. I had to. He was suffering and was going to die anyway. There was nothing else I could do." Nick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So I went over and got the gun. I stood next to him, and he held on to my ankle. I closed my eyes, then I shot him."

That was the first time that Nick had actually said out loud that he had shot his brother. He had implied as much to Doc Robbins, but hadn't actually said it. Now, hearing it out loud, he understood the magnitude of what he had done. He hadn't comprehended it as much when he had seen Mike, or even right after he had done it. It took saying it out loud for it to really hit him.

"I shot him," Nick repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Warrick knew he had to say something. "You did the right thing. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you did Nicky. Because of you, he didn't have to suffer."

Nick shook his head. "No, because of me, he died in the first place. So did Jack. This is all my fault, I should have never gotten involved."

Warrick gripped Nick's shoulder firmly. "Stop blaming yourself. You can't do this to yourself man, they wouldn't want you to."

Nick sighed. "I know. I just wish I could change what happened. Everything was so chaotic, I barely even realized that I got arrested until I was out again. I wish that this was all just a bad dream and would go away when I wake up."

"Your whole life has kinda been like that man," Warrick said with a small smile.

Nick laughed. "Very true. At least I didn't lose _everything_."

"Exactly," Warrick agreed. "You still have your job, even though you were arrested for murder. And even though you were a lying, conivining, conning, jackass criminal, all your friends still love and care about you for some reason."

Nick smiled. "Thankfully my friends are idiots and forgive me too easily. Otherwise, I don't know what I'd do."

"Beg us until we forgave you just to get you to stop being annoying."

Nick nodded. "I'd do whatever it takes."

"So what are you going to do now?" Warrick asked.

Nick sighed. "I don't know. I have twenty-seven million dollars, and a house in Italy. I'm not sure where to go from here."

They were quiet for a minute, both thinking their own separate thoughts to themselves. Warrick was thinking about how glad he was that Nick was back to the normal Nick he'd known for the last fifteen some odd years. Nick was thinking about where to go from here, and it didn't take long for him to get an answer.

"Chicago," he said, thinking out loud.

Warrick frowned. "Excuse me?"

Nick looked at his best friend. "Chicago is where Lauryn lives."

"Who the hell is Lauryn?"

"Mike's daughter," Nick explained. "She lives with her aunt there because Mike's wife died from cancer. Maybe they'll want twenty-seven million dollars and a house in Italy."

Finding Meagan Veller's apartment in Chicago wasn't as hard as Nick originally thought it would be. After being interrogated for nearly an hour at O'Hare airport because he looked suspicious in that he didn't have any luggage with him and seemed very nervous, Nick arrived at his destination. Meagan Veller's apartment was just inside the Chicago-Englewood line. It was about a half hour taxi ride from the airport, but Nick didn't care. It gave him a chance to think of what he was going to say.

Nick climbed the four flights to the apartment listed as 'Veller.' He hadn't thought to use the elevator until he was standing in front of the door. The hallway was pretty nice, with a fairly new scarlet carpater and bright lighting. The wall s were neatly painted a soft tan color, and all the large oak doors had shiny numbers in the centers. Nick knocked on the door loud enough for someone inside to hear, then he waited.

He was about to knock again when he realized that there was probably no one home. It was 2:30 in the afternoon on a Thursday. People work. Nick was about to turn around and leave whent the door opened.

A women at least five years younger than Nick opened the door. Her sandy blonde hand fell behind her shoulders and was tucked behind both ears. Her green eyes were behind a pair of nice eyeglasses, and she smiled politely.

"Can I help you?" she asked sweetly.

Nick shook his head slowly. "Sorry, I should have called or something first. I'm-"

"Nick," Meagan Veller said, cutting him off.

Nick nodded. "Yeah."

"I knew as soon as I heard your voice," she explained. "You sound just like Michael. Not to mention you look like him as well." Nick nodded again. Before he could reply, Meagan was ushering him inside. "Please, come in."

Nick entered the apartment and looked around him. To his right was a small, cozy kitchen was an island and a nice steel refrigerator. On his left the living room spread out in front of a large window overlooking the rest of the city. Directly in front of him at the other end of the foyer was a hallway leading to the rest of the apartment.

"Have a seat," Meagan said, leading Nick over to the living room. Nick sat on the sofa while Meagan took the chair in front of him and to his left. "Please don't take this as rude, but what are you doing here?"

"I have some bad news," Nick began, not sure what to say. Meagan was paying very close attention. "Mike passed away."

Meagan covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my God. What happened?"

"He was...killed," Nick said, failing to mention he was the one who had done it. "I'm sorry I didn't contact you earlier. Honestly, I didn't even think of it till now. I'm sorry."

Meagan shook her head. "Don't be. I wouldn't have been able to go out for the funeral anyway, it would have been to emotional for me to handle and I don't have the money. Besides, it's best for Lauryn not to have to go. It would have been too hard for her. She didn't get to see Mike much, but when she did she was always so happy. She really loved him."

"He loved her too," Nick said.

"Where you there when he died?" Nick nodded slowly. "That must have been awful. He talks about you all the time ya know. I knew that he finally got to meet you. He was so excited. James and Jack were the only family he's ever had, and they weren't exactly the best. No offense."

Nick smiled slightly. "No worries."

Meagan nodded slightly. "Lauryn's in her room right now, and I think you should be the one to tell her. She kept telling Mike she wanted to meet you. Too bad it isn't under better circumstances."

"Are you sure you want me too?" Nick asked. Meagan nodded and stood.

Nick stood as well and followed Meagan down the hall to the second door on the left. She opened it slowly, then held it all the way open, smiling in at the girl laying on her stomach on her neatly made bed.

Lauryn's room was a typical eleven-year-old's room. The walls were painted light purple. Her bed was covered with a dark purple bed spread and littered with yellow pillows. There was a desk on the wall next to the bed and a large dresser on the same wall as the door. A few pictures and paintings were hung on the walls, but none caught Nick's attention. He was looking at the one on her desk next to her bed. The one of her and her father.

Lauryn sat up on her bed and pulled her iPod headphones out of her ears. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail. She was wearing jeans and a Chicago Cubs t-shirt. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, sitting up and smiling back at Meagan.

"Lauryn," Meagan said softly. "There's someone here I want you to meet."

She stepped aside so Lauryn could see Nick. Lauryn smiled shyly, and Nick returned the gesture.

"He has something he has to tell you, so I'm going to leave you two alone for a minute, okay?"

Lauryn nodded, and Meagan left. "Come sit down," Lauryn said politely, motioning to her desk chair.

Nick went over and sat in the chair. He looked down at the yellow and purple rug at his feet before looking up at the brown eyes that were looking at him. The same brown eyes that Mike had been looking at him with the night he had died. The night Nick had killed him. How was he supposed to tell this little girl she was never going to see her father again?

Nick thought that the best was to begin was with a deep breath.


	29. Truth Be Told

"Hi Lauryn," Nick finally said. "I'm Nick, your dad's brother."

Lauryn smiled. "Oh yeah, he's told me about you before. You live in Las Vegas, right?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah."

"So what are you doing all the way out here?" Lauryn asked.

"I came to see you," Nick replied. Lauryn frowned slightly in confusion. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

Lauryn's smile faded. "I'm my dad, isn't it?"

Nick nodded again. "He uh...passed away."

Lauryn nodded once and looked down at her floor. A few tears fell from her eyes, but she brushed them away before looking back up at Nick. "Did he get to meet you before that happened?"

"Yeah, I got to know him pretty well actually."

Lauryn smiled slightly. "Good. He talked about you all the time ya know. He was really excited to meet you and everything."

Nick smiled slightly as well. Lauryn reminded him a lot of Cassie McBride, except Lauryn was his niece. It was the first time he had ever talked to her and had only seen her once before in a photo, but Nick already knew he cared about this little girl and what was going to happen now that Mike was gone.

"How did he die?" Lauryn asked. "And I'm eleven don't forget. I'm smart and know when people are lying. My dad taught me."

Nick smiled a little wider before it faded. "What happened is kind of complicated..." Nick said, unsure of how to go about this.

"He was murdered," Lauryn said instead of asked. Nick nodded reluctantly. "Where you there with him?"

Sitting there, looking into Lauryn's eyes, Nick decided he wasn't going to lie to her. Yeah, she was a little young to know the details, but she deserved to know the truth. Nick had been lied to and hadn't known the truth of his own life until he was thirty-six years old. He didn't want that to happen to Lauryn. She needed to know what really happened so she wouldn't go the rest of her life wondering what was real and what wasn't.

"Yeah, I was," Nick answered. "I was there."

"So what happened?"

NIck swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "I was drugged, and when I woke up I was in the middle of the desert next to your dad. He was beat up really bad, and he was dying. There wasn't enough time to go get help. He wasn't going to make it, and we both knew it."

"Was he in a lot of pain?"

Nick couldn't take his eyes away from Lauryn's. "Yes, he was. So I...there was a gun next to him, and he told me he wanted to get it over with. So I shot him."

Nick understood that there were few other people in the world that would have done what he just did. He told the truth to an eleven-year-old girl. He told her that he had shot her dad because he was dying anyway. Nick had done something most people wouldn't have; he did the right thing. He had thought with his heart, and couldn't lie to Lauryn about it, so he didn't.

"You killed him?" Lauryn asked in disbelief.

Nick nodded slowly. "I didn't want him to suffer anymore."

"Who beat him up in the first place?"

"James," Nick said with a sigh. Lauryn looked very confused. "Ya know Jack?"

Lauryn nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, he was my dad, and your dad's dad too. We thought it was James, but it's not. James is a bad guy and is in jail for what he did."

"So Jack is my grandfather?" Lauryn asked. Nick nodded with a sad look on his face. "Did you kill him too?"

Nick felt like someone had stabbed him in the heart. He shook his head slowly. "No, I didn't."

"But he's dead," Lauryn said. "You said he was your dad."

A small smile spread on Nick's lips. "Your dad taught you a lot, didn't he?" Lauryn nodded. "James killed him. Jack had something James' wanted, but he wouldn't give it to him."

Lauryn nodded very slowly. She looked away from Nick and was quiet for several moments before looking back at him. "I'm not mad at you. And I won't tell anyone about what happened, you wouldn't have killed him if you didn't have to."

"I wish I could have helped him," Nick said honestly.

Lauryn smiled. "I believe you," she said. "You remind me a lot of my dad. You look a lot like him."

"I get that a lot," Nick said, his smile returning as well.

"So do you have any kids?" Lauryn asked. Nick shook his head. "Are you married?" Nick shook his head again. "You seem like you would be."

"Why's that?" Nick asked.

Lauryn shrugged. "I don't know, just the way my dad talked about you made you seem like the coolest guy ever, and he hadn't even met you yet. Not that you can't still be cool and single. I'm single."

Nick laughed. "You better be, you're only eleven."

Lauryn rolled her eyes. "You sound like my dad. He was always asking me if I had a boyfriend and told me if I did he would make him disappear."

"It was because he loved you so much," Nick said.

Tears returned to Lauryn's eyes. "What's gonna happen to me now?"

"What do you mean?" Nick asked, not fully understanding.

"My aunt didn't tell you," she said, sadness creeping into her voice. "My aunt is dying from cancer, like my mom. I guess it runs in the family. She doesn't look that sick because she wears a wig and a lot of makeup. She told me last week that she doesn't have a lot of time left and that I would be living with my dad for good because she's getting too sick to take care of me and wants to make sure I'm in good hands. Am I going to have to go into a foster home?"

Nick had no idea what to say at the moment, so he didn't say anything. He just stared at the little girl in front of him, who looked so scared and lost that it reminded him of how he felt when this whole thing had started. What was he supposed to do?

"I don't know," he said quietly.

"I don't want to live in a foster home," Lauryn said. "I saw a show on TV before and sometimes they're really mean to the kids and hurt them and stuff."

"No one's going to hurt you," Nick said. "Do you have any other relative?"

Lauryn shook her head. "All I have left is you."

And she was right. Nick was the only family she had, and she was the only family he had. Other than his mom, but she was going back to live in Italy in the house Jack had left for Nick. He had no use for it, and she loved Italy so much, so Nick had signed it over to her before he came to Chicago. Now, he was sitting in front of his niece, who he had just met, who was scared to death that she was going to end up in an abusive foster home.

Nick felt like someone was hitting him in the head with a hammer. "Did your dad know about your aunt?"

Lauryn nodded. "He said we could move to Vegas. He wanted me to meet you and be near family, but that was before. He obviously didn't know I was going to have to meet you like this."

Nick was lost in thought, trying to figure out what to do. Of all the things he had been faced with recently, this seemed like the hardest of them all because it involved the life of someone who was truly helpless and didn't have much say in what was going to happen. Not unlike other times, Nick had no idea what to do.

"I don't want to live with strangers," Lauryn said, her voice barely above a whisper. The tears were starting to fall from her dark brown eyes.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you, okay?" Lauryn nodded weakly. "We'll figure this out, I promise."

Lauryn smiled sadly. "You sound like my dad too," she said, glancing over at the picture on her desk of the two of them. "He was a bad guy, wasn't he?"

Nick shook his head, but Lauryn wasn't looking at him. He got up and sat down on the bed next to her so she had to look up at him. His eyes reminded her of her dad's, and more tears began falling from her eyes.

"No, he wasn't," Nick said. "He was involved with some bad people, but your dad was a great guy. He loved you very much. Some people may try to tell you he was a bad guy and stuff like that, but don't listen to them okay?"

Lauryn nodded. "He never told me anything that he did because he was afraid I would do it too. That's why he had me stay here in Chicago, so I wouldn't get hurt." She wiped her tears before adding, "I didn't get to see him all the time, but I miss him as much as I would have if I got to see him everyday."

And with that, the tears and soft sobs took over her body. She leaned forward until her face was buried against Nick's chest and wrapped her small arms around him. He didn't hesitate in returning the gesture, trying his best to console her, but after a few minutes his own tears began to fall as well. But neither one of them had to speak anymore. All they had to do was sit there, together, because they were all each other had at the moment.


End file.
